The Inferior Soldier
by M10m gas mask soldier
Summary: As a Variant VII Replica Heavy Trooper, Alpha 1 was engineered to be a weapon of war, but all he desires is to protect Alma and Michael. While chasing Foxtrot 813 for Alma, he is defeated by a Phase Commander. Upon waking, he finds himself far from his home. Without "slow-mo" or godlike powers, he has to find a way back to the only family that he has. Prequel to The Broken Soldier.
1. Chapter 1: Is something troubling you?

Title: The Inferior Soldier

Origin: F.E.A.R. 2: Project Origin

POV: Alpha 1

Type: Horror/ hurt/ comfort

A.N.: Because I get too attached to characters that I create, I am writing this side story that will detail Alpha 1's past from the moment that he awakened to the moment that Becket encounters him at the end of Chapter 3 in the main story.

I wrote this to be a prequel for The Broken Soldier. This story will cover what was happening in the background during F.E.A.R. 2 Project Origin. It will also elaborate on certain loose ends that I do not cover in the main story. So, if you like my main story, it might be worth your time to read this one too.

At the end of this chapter and the beginning of the next one, when Alpha 1 talks about killing Becket, he does not realize that Michael and Sgt. Becket are the same person because he only knew Becket by his first name and there was no way that he could have recognized him.

Since the only insight into the Replicas (their personalities, how their programming affects them, their command structure, and even simple things like how they view the world) in the games is extremely limited and really only seen at the beginning of the DLC Reborn, I had to make my best guess on how to write from the point of view of one.

Read and review if you want.

Disclaimer: F.E.A.R. 2 Project Origin and all related characters and elements are trademarks of Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. I claim no ownership of anything, except for my OCs, nor do I plan to profit from posting this. I hope this is enough to avoid legal action against me.

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><p>"Is something troubling you my friend?" My brother, Commander Becket, asked with concern in his voice. I grimaced beneath my cracked face. My commander had an annoying habit of being able to tell when something was bothering me even when I tried to hide it. It had been hours since we had returned from my brother's childhood home and we were currently in his office.<p>

I shifted uncomfortably as I leaned against one of the walls with my arms folded against my chest. I looked at him through my damaged eyes that saw the world in a warm orange color as I contemplated whether or not to answer his inquiry honestly. I had been viewed as being inferior all my life and I did not desire to have finally found someone that I could think of as being family, only to lose their respect by making them think that I was inferior.

However, he seemed to sense the conflict in my mind because he smiled slightly before he assured me, "After everything that we have been through, it is impossible for me to think of you as being inferior."

Hoping that his words were sincere, I sighed before I started, "Sir, when people ask me what my name is…" I paused as hesitation momentarily robbed me of my courage.

My friend closed the manila folder that contained the file that he had been looking through and placed it off to the left side of his desk. He then leaned back in his leather chair as he focused his attention completely on me. The cold, emotionless soldier side of him left his personality as he said encouragingly, "It's okay…go on."

My nerve returned and I continued, "The reason that I cannot answer them is not because of my programming. It is because I am not certain who I am."

He nodded before he asked, "Well, who do you think you are?" I mulled over the question for a moment while my brother patiently waited.

Finally, I replied, "I am not sure, sir."

He shook his head before he instructed me, "Knock off that sir and yes sir crap. This is just a chat between two friends."

I smiled beneath my face in response. I continued, "Thank you, brother. I have been called so many things that I do not know who I am. Inferior, freak, killer, A0001, Alpha 1…truth is that I just don't know which one is my name."

My friend nodded slowly as he processed what I had said. After a moment, he said, "It occurs to me that I know very little about your past. Perhaps the answer that you seek is there."

His answer stunned me. As a Replica, I was programmed to not dwell on past events unless they were relevant to the current situation and even then, such thoughts were akin to being taboo. A knock on the door drew my friend's attention. His soldier side returned, indicated by his overall demeanor sharpening, and the dead look returning to his glowing orange eyes. He called out, "Enter."

Foxtrot 813 entered the room and swiftly walked to stand before our commander. He went to attention and saluted. Becket saluted back and Foxtrot 813 dropped his right hand before he reported, "Sir, Bravo 2 has been released from the infirmary and has reported to Lieutenant Stokes."

Becket replied, "Understood. Inform Stokes that I will submit the transfer request by 1200 hours. Dismissed."

Foxtrot 813 saluted one more time before exiting the room. As soon as the sentient Replica soldier, I myself being the only other one, walked out of the room, the soldier side left my commander. He returned to looking at me with brotherly concern. I started, "I was born, like all the other Replicas, in the Perseus Compound." I let myself get lost in my memories as I recounted my life to my commander.

I opened my eyes to find that I was floating in some kind of container. Needles attached to narrow fluid-filled tubes were stuck into my nude body at various spots. Transparent, ice-cold fluid surrounded me but a respirator was attached to my face so I could breathe. Panic filled my mind and I thrashed against my restraints as I freaked out. Somehow, my violent jerks succeeded in breaking my right arm free from the restraining strap.

I began ripping the needles out of my body despite the sharp pain that it caused me. The fluid surrounding me began to turn red as the needle holes began to bleed. Eventually, all my limbs were free and I started beating against the clear concavo-complex barrier that stood between my freedom and me. At first, my efforts seemed fruitless and my strikes became increasingly feral in response. Just when all hope seemed lost, a crack appeared.

Seeing at there was a chance for my escape, I pushed my beaten limbs harder in one last push at freedom. Finally, the barrier submitted to my assaults and I fell forward as it gave way. Some of the broken shards cut into my bare skin and I moaned in agony. Before I could rest, I heard something drop to the ground a few feet to my left. I looked up to see a lab coat clad Hispanic man staring wide-eyed at me.

After shaking for a moment, he suddenly yelled, "Security! One of them is awake!" He turned and started running in the opposite direction as he continued to yell the same two statements repeatedly. After removing the respirator from my face, I removed the waste removal tubes from my genitals and anus. Finally free from the strange device, I pushed myself to my feet.

As I did so, I saw my reflection in the most intact piece of the shards of the barrier. A pale, young, Caucasian boy with short brown hair and blue eyes looked back at me from the surface of the shard. I was just a child that appeared to be no older than ten years old. In the brief glance that I got, I also saw what appeared to be a barcode on the side of my head.

Confused, I looked down at my pale white hands and quietly asked aloud with a strangely deep but still desperate and scared voice, "What am I? Who am I?" The sound of approaching footsteps caused me to turn to look to my right. I saw a young Caucasian boy about my age with brown hair and wearing a simple white t-shirt and blue jeans. His face was bruised and his expression was one of deep sorrow, but his grey eyes held a charismatic sharpness to them.

I saw a quick look of curiosity before he asked, "Who are you?"

I replied, "I was hoping that you knew." Before we could continue conversing, a pale, strange looking raven-haired girl wearing a long sleeve red dress suddenly materialized between us. I was startled by her sudden appearance and I backed away from the pair a few steps. However, the boy seemed unaffected by her otherworldly physical appearance and I even saw a brief look of joy as he gazed at her as if she was some kind of goddess.

She smiled back at him before she scolded him with a motherly tone, "Michael no. You should not be here. Let me take you home. Quickly, before they find you." In my fear, I failed to pay enough attention to my surroundings and I stepped on one of the shards. It must have been pointed up because I yelped as it dug into my left foot.

The noise drew the attention of the girl. She turned away from Michael and looked at me. Immediately, I was drawn to her eyes. She had glowing orange eyes with dark rings around them. I wanted to retreat away from her frightening gaze but I suddenly heard her voice inside my mind. She asked with a gentle tone, "You see?" Frightened beyond rational thought, it took everything I had in me to manage to nod once in response.

Her pale lips formed a nearly imperceptible smile as she once again spoke into my mind. With the same gentle tone, she said, "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you unless you give me a reason to. Come with us." She extended her right hand towards me and waited to see if I would accept her offer. Unsure about how to handle the situation, I took another step back.

I saw her eyes sadden in response. It was the most heartbreaking sight I had ever witnessed, but, in all fairness, I had just woken up. Beside her, Michael looked at me with an encouraging smile as he motioned towards her. Giving in, I walked forward and approached the young girl. When I was close enough, I extended my left hand and placed it in her hand.

A severe headache erupted inside my mind as I was assaulted by different images of the same two men fighting alongside each other. One wore brown Special Forces attire, was armed with an assault rifle, and disguised his face with a black ski mask that had a skull painted on it. The other wore white and green heavy armor that had racks of red shotgun shells in various spots along its surface, was armed with an automatic shotgun, and disguised his face with an intimidating cracked, white ceramic mask. Their uniforms may have claimed that the men swore different allegiances, but they might as well have been brothers as they fought together.

Before I could act upon the pain, it vanished along with the images. Clothing similar to Michael's had encased my frame while I had been overwhelmed by the images. Shaking, I asked, "Wh-what wa-was that?"

The girl giggled before she replied, "Someday, you will know."

Michael remarked with an amused voice, "Yeah, she does stuff like that. You get used to it after a while. Don't worry, that means that she likes you." Before I could respond, approaching voices and footsteps ended our short-lived moment. Michael said, "This way, I know a secret way out." I ran beside my new ally as he led the way to our escape route.

As we ran down the corridors, I glanced around and was horrified to see hundreds of children, most with deformed faces, in devices that were identical to the one in which I had been held prisoner. I asked aloud, "What the Hell is this place? What the fuck is going on here?"

As he paused to get his bearings, Michael explained, "This is a hidden facility that is owned by a corporation called Armacham Technology Corporation. You are one of hundreds of cloned soldiers that are called Replicas." He started running again and I followed beside him.

He continued, "Replica soldiers are part of a project called Perseus, which is funded by the Department of Defense. Something about genetically engineered puppet soldiers that respond to telepathic orders from psychic commanders."

Confused, I asked, "Puppet…soldiers? Psychic…commanders?"

He laughed as we rounded a corner before he said, "Fucked up shit isn't it? Trust me, this is nothing compared to what they are doing in Project Paragon."

I replied, "Depends on the perspective from which you are looking at it. I am a…cloned puppet…"

Realization hit me and I asked, "Wait, then why am I awake and making decisions?"

He replied with a humble, honest tone, "I don't know. Maybe you are special." We approached a series of large air vents that must have pulled fresh air down into the facility. If that were true, then we must have been underground. Michael pointed towards one and we ran to it.

He pulled it off its mount and motioned for me to follow him as he crawled into the vent. I bent down to follow but at that instant, an alarm sounded. Seconds later, the sound of closing metal security gates echoed throughout the facility. Before I could join my friend, a metal gate sealed off my escape route, as well as every other vent mounted nearby.

Michael crawled back and said, "Hold on, I will find a way to open it." I heard the sound of approaching booted footsteps. Realizing that it was too late for me, I grabbed the vent cover and put it back into place so that they would not suspect that anyone else other than me had tried to escape. That would buy my friend enough time to reach freedom.

With a hurt voice, Michael stated, "What are you doing? I won't leave you behind!"

I smiled slightly in gratitude for his concern before I replied, "No, it is too late for me. Please, run. Save yourself…my friend."

I saw him hesitate but the sound of approaching footsteps and the young girl telling him to follow her finally caused him to give into my request. However, just before he crawled away, he told me, "I will be back. I will set you all free. I promise." Then, he disappeared from view as he crawled away.

"You! Hold it right there!" I turned to see around a dozen men wearing dark sunglasses and dressed in matching short-sleeve blue uniforms with black lightweight Kevlar armor. Upon seeing the devices in their hands, a forced thought went through my mind. 'Dart Gun. Fires nonlethal projectiles designed to incapacitate targets by injecting narcotics via hypodermic needle. Effective range: five meters with optimal conditions. Situation assessment: successful escape highly unlikely; chances of survival are minimal.' The thought left my mind and I quietly asked myself, "What the fuck was that?"

A female voice mocked me, "Ah, you seem to have absorbed your programming despite your premature self-removal from your gestation pod. Pity that you have to be destroyed." A female scientist stepped forward between the guards as they aimed their dart guns at me. With a cold voice, she ordered, "He is an inferior specimen…sentient. We have no use for him. Kill him. Cremate the body when you are done." I stepped back in fright but I had no sooner moved back a step before I felt a sharp prick in my chest.

I looked down to see a dart imbedded into my upper chest. As it hit home that I was about to die, a forced thought went through my mind once more. 'Analysis: damage minimal; dart point imbedded into sternum; likelihood of effective drug injection is unlikely.' Rage filled me as I decided that I was not going to die without making my killers earn it. I was going to be defiant until the end.

Running towards the men, I ripped the dart out of my chest and held it tightly in my right hand. The female scientist fled the area as I neared the line of men. Darts continued to imbed themselves into my tiny body. However, I was an engineered super weapon so I fought through the fog and numbness that was beginning to overwhelm my senses. I lunged and tackled one of the guards. My momentum was enough to knock the man off his feet and I landed knees first on top of his chest.

By that time, my sense of hearing had degraded to the extent that every noise was distorted and muffled. While the man thrashed about beneath me, I thrust the dart into the man's right eye through the lens of his sunglasses. His screams were lost to me as I stood and prepared to stomp the dart in further. As my foot descended, I screamed, "Die motherfucker!" The man finally stopped moving except for the sporadic twitches caused by his body's nerve endings that had not gotten the memo that it was time to die.

With one down, I reached for the combat knife strapped to the corpse's right leg but before I could unsheathe it, one final dart struck into the side of my neck. My body finally could not hold back the tide of the narcotics flowing through my bloodstream. I collapsed onto my back. As I lay there, my arms and legs jerked as I attempted to continue the fight. Eventually, as the ATC security guards surrounded me and with my body ceasing all movement, I realized that my fate was inevitable and that I was never going to see the outside world.

Just before the fatal blow could be stuck, a man's voice said, "Wait." A man with brown hair, a moustache, black rimmed prescription glasses, and wearing a brown coat stood over me as my vision started to blacken. I could still make out the fear in the guards' faces from being in close proximity to this man. He studied me for a moment before he asked, "What is this one's identification?"

The Hispanic scientist that had gone for security earlier appeared beside the man. Looking down at a clipboard, he replied, "Variant VII. Classification: Heavy Trooper. Serial number: A0001."

A0001? That was my name? In addition, I was a Replica Heavy Trooper, whatever that meant. I managed to smile despite the tranquilizer drugs. At least, I would die knowing who and what I was. As my vision became a long narrow tube, I heard the brown-coated man say, "Take him to the Harbinger Facility's Outer Ring storage area. Label him as an experiment that is under my _personal_ supervision."

As I submitted to the narcotics, I heard someone say, "Yes sir, Mr. Wade." Seconds later, I lost consciousness.

For the next twenty years or so, I was trapped in an endless cycle of being confined to that claustrophobic prison that they called a stasis pod and engaging in agonizingly repetitive live fire exercises in The Arena. The pathetic shells of human beings that ATC would strap into the chair in the booth were always the same: paranoid, feral, and could not give a coherent command if they wanted to. My curse of having a sentient mind proved useful in The Arena because I was able to quickly dispatch the enemy team while its members struggled to try to make sense of the incoherent orders given to them by the abominations. However, being human nearly drove me insane while I was in my stasis pod.

While my Replica brethren had the luxury of going dormant during the time in their stasis pods, I was awake. It would not have been so bad if the other Replicas had accepted me. However, except for the other Heavy Troopers, I was a freak of nature to them. The Heavy Troopers treated me with respect, but unfortunately, we Heavy Troopers are not social creatures so I spent months at a time in complete isolation with only my thoughts and memories to keep me company.

I constantly thought of Michael and the strange little girl. They were the only ones that had shown me kindness. Though I knew that it was pointless, I begged and prayed that some miracle would bring us back together. Then, one day, as I was deep in thought, my com link activated as the image of a Heavy Trooper appeared in my HUD. After a moment of pulling my mind out of its slumber, I realized that it was a unit of the Replica Command.

The Trooper said, "Heavy Trooper A0001, respond."

Stunned, because I had never heard Replica Command contact me, I replied, "A0001 reporting for duty."

He ordered me, "A0001, you have been assigned as the squad leader for Alpha team. Your call sign is now Alpha 1. Orders are as follows: Proceed to Command Post Charlie and rendezvous with your new team. Terminate the Armacham Technology Corporation Blackops that have infiltrated the facility with extreme prejudice. Primary mission objective is to track down and terminate Delta Force Operative Sergeant Becket."

My pod opened and I exited it as I replied, "Roger that command." I retrieved my automatic shotgun and took in my surroundings. I was alone in a side storage area. I noticed a puddle of water on the concrete floor and looked down into it. An intimidating white ceramic mask with two glowing rectangular slits for eyes returned my glance. I was definitely no longer a child.

In the distance, I heard the sound of gunfire. Proceeding with caution, I entered the main corridor. I realized that the gunshots were headed my way. My com link activated and a Replica soldier informed me, "Alpha 1, Target Sergeant Becket is nearing your location."

I replied, "Copy that. He won't get past me." Moments later, I heard the sound of booted footsteps approaching my location. With my shotgun at the ready, I said quietly, "Nothing personal Becket, but it is either you or me."


	2. Chapter 2: Who are you?

Ch. 2: Who are you?

A.N.:

Hello to anyone who takes the time to read this. I know that it is not as good as my main story but I want to tell Alpha 1's story to give him some justice as well as to give some insight into Becket and Alma's story as well.

Review if you want. I will try to answer any questions as best I can. After I post a chapter, I always go through and correct any grammatical or game canon errors. Please keep that in mind the first day or two after I post something. After that, if there is still an error that bugs you, feel free to tell me.

Oh, the way Alma speaks at the beginning is me trying to imitate the weird way that she speaks in the game. So…it is not grammatical mistakes. I did the same thing in the early chapters and flashbacks in my main story too.

To my fellow Southern readers, I hope you were all fortunate during this horrible winter storm.

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><p>Over the rhythmic sound of machinery, I heard the sound of footsteps getting closer and closer until they were about to pass me. I could hear more gunshots and the sound of my fellow Replicas calling out to each other as they engaged the Delta Force Operative.<p>

I shook my head in disgust as I muttered, "Damn fools. They are throwing themselves at him. You don't win like that." I contacted them, "Attention all nearby units, this is Alpha 1. Target is to be encircled. Do you copy?"

The response that I received was, "Piss off you freak."

My real eyes narrowed behind my armored face as I contacted Replica Command, "Command, requesting permission to terminate this soldier for insubordination."

Command replied, "Granted."

That got through to the Replica Trooper and he fell back in line. He asked, "What are your orders, Alpha 1?"

I replied, "Fall back and make sure that he follows you. I will flank him."

He said, "Roger that, Alpha 1."

I crept forward through the main storage area beneath The Arena. Overhead, machinery transported stasis pods to an unknown location. Moving down the concrete path that was illuminated by the orange glow of the overhead lights, I located a crevice to slip into. After a moment of waiting, a man dressed in brown Special Forces attire passed me and from my hidden position, I was able to study him. Once again, I noted the strange ability to know differences in color even though my armored eyes saw the world with an orange hue.

He was Caucasian, had brown hair that was cut short but was styled with a civilian haircut instead of a military haircut, was clean-shaven, was around thirty years old, and appeared to be in admittedly outstanding physical fitness. I noted the recent injuries to his face that would likely become scars once they healed. Despite the green tinted HUD glasses that he wore, I saw that his eyes were grey.

His demeanor was one of intense focus. The way that he handled the Patten PK470 7.8mm Assault Rifle in his grasp was as if it were an extension of himself instead of a weapon. I realized that he would be a dangerous adversary. He was all-military. I would not have been surprised if he had very few friends outside the service, let alone any close personal relationships with anyone. Just as I was about to creep up behind him, I noticed three pods open in front of him.

Wanting to see how skilled the man was, I decided to observe how effectively he handled the three standard Replica grunts. As I watched him, he suddenly started moving as a blur. Before my eyes, he rapidly cut down the three Replica grunts with pinpoint accuracy before they could even raise their assault rifles. Immediately following his victory, as if he had thrown a switch, the man's movements slowed back down to normal human levels.

I had to admit that he was extremely fast and accurate for a non-Replica. That must have been the "slow-mo" ability that I had been hearing about. The older variant that Commander Fettel had taken with him when he went rogue had whispered to the rest of us about someone called "him". The way they talked about that individual, you would think that he was some kind of demon or monster rather than a man.

It did not make sense that this soldier had the "slow-mo" ability too though. He could not be the same individual that the older variant had encountered. That would be impossible. The last report was that the individual had been sighted near The Vault, which was clear on the other side of the city, less than half an hour before the explosion. The Vault was Ground Zero. Even if the individual had, by some miracle, survived the blast, it was unfeasible that he had transverse the damaged city to infiltrate this facility.

There was no way that this soldier and that soldier were the same person. Why did this Delta Force Operative have the same ability then? Only Armacham had the necessary technology and knowledge to give it to an individual. That meant another possibility.

I sensed the massive telesthetic signature that he gave off. Perhaps he was one of their experiments. I doubted that he was aware of what they had done to him. If he had been, he would have realized that he could have taken control of us easily. His signature felt familiar but I could not place it. The more I focused on his signature, the more the feeling of nostalgia increased.

I shook my head to clear the unnecessary thoughts. I just wanted to get the business over with so I could begin my search for Michael and the girl. I may have been turned into a monster, but surely, they would still accept me. They just had to. That is what friends were supposed to do, right? I had been alone for so long. Surely, they would understand that and still accept me despite the fact that I had been turned into an armored killer. This soldier was in the way of me being reunited with them.

He had taken cover behind a metal box to avoid the incoming fire of the squad of Replicas that had fallen back at my direction. He was concentrating on them and had his back to me. His reflexes may give him an advantage, but he had to activate them before he could use them. That would not do him much good if I got behind him and killed him before he could activate them.

Crouching down, I advanced towards him. He was aiming down his rifle's scope, completely oblivious to his surroundings. With my footsteps disguised by the machinery and the firefight inches away from me, he was completely ignorant of my presence. He crouched down behind the box once more as he began to reload his rifle. By that time, I had snuck up behind him within an arm's length. I aimed my shotgun pointblank at his head.

His fate was sealed; there was no way that he would survive my shot. My right finger began to pull my shotgun's trigger. Just before I could terminate him, an unseen force possessed my body. I was lifted off my feet and onto my back. Strangely oblivious to what was happening inches behind him, the soldier began to advance on the other Replicas with his reflexes activated.

Unable to get to my feet or free myself from the force that had seized me, I began to slide across the floor as if I was being dragged by something. Desperately, I reached out with my left hand to try to grab something that would give me enough leverage to halt my involuntary slide. I cried out in pain as I collided with various obstacles.

Within seconds, I was well away from the area were Becket was located. As I turned a corner, a severe headache erupted inside my head and I started to hear what sounded like a woman mumbling incoherent statements. At the end of the hallway that I being dragged towards, I saw a pale, nude, emaciated young woman with tangled black hair.

Her demeanor was one of pure menace and rage. The rage disturbed me the most. It was so thick in the air that it was suffocating. Changing my posture so I sliding along on my ass, I raised my left hand up to the fore-grip/pump of my automatic shotgun. I began to hip fire my scattergun at the demonic being.

Despite emptying my shotgun's magazine into the woman, I continued to be dragged towards her. Moreover, my 12 gauge rounds seemed to have little to no effect on the being despite the fact that they were double-aught buckshot. At that range, nothing mortal could have survived that amount of buckshot. Realizing the extent of the extreme danger that I was in, I dropped my weapon as I rolled over and started clawing at the floor while I simultaneously started kicking to try to get back on my feet.

The closer I got to the demon, the more my headache throbbed in my head. When it finally reached the intensity that I became nauseated, I was picked up by my neck from behind and thrown into the wall. As my back collided with the hard surface, I had to force the groan to not to escape my lips while several of my ribs popped and cracked. The raw energy of the impact with the wall had been staggering. My armor had been the only thing that prevented my spine from outright snapping.

The demon's pale skinny right hand held me around my neck with a bone-crushing grip that I knew would be impossible to escape. She held me against the wall with her face only inches from the ceramic surface of my face. This close, it felt like every single molecule inside my body was on fire. Not wanting to show any signs of weakness, I gave off a low threatening growl that sounded slightly mechanical due to the voice modifier built into my mask.

The bottomless black pits that were her eyes bore into me as I involuntarily twitched from the unbearable agony throbbing inside me as if my body had suddenly become one single nerve ending. Any normal human being would have already blacked out.

She whispered with a dead, emotionless voice, "Hurt. You try hurt. Will not let you." Her grip around my neck started to tighten. She was going to snap my neck! No, I was not going to die before I got to see my friends just one more time. Forcing my body to rally despite the maddening pain that it was in, I balled my right fist and then sent a right punch into the left side of her skull.

I was unable to stop the grunt from escaping my lips as I felt and heard the bones in my hand shatter like a cold piece of steel hit with a sledgehammer. A forced thought went through my mind.

_'Analysis: Comminuted fractures to the metacarpals and carpus. Right hand functionality is down to one percent.'_

It felt like I had punched a reinforced steel wall that was several feet thick. My engineered, inhuman strength and increased bone density literally allowed me to punch through brick walls. I should have been able to reduce her skull to powder. Instead, the demon had shattered my hand with seemingly no effort. What was she?

She seemed to be enjoying my torment and she even gave off a dry cackle. As darkness started to overtake my vision, I gasped out, "If…you…expect…me…to…beg…I…will…not."

She whispered, "You different Replica. Die anyway."

My left hand instinctively tried to remove her hand by squeezing down on her wrist. My strength should have been able to crush her bones easily but even at full pressure, I was unable to.

As my mind began to slip into unconsciousness, the image of Michael and the girl flashed through my mind. Instantly, her grip around my neck slackened enough to let me breathe and the agonizingly throbbing sensation inside my body and mind ceased. She whispered, "What that?" She continued to hold me but now it was merely to keep me from moving as she seemed to study me. She whispered with an obsessive tone, "Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?"

I felt a strange sensation inside my head. It did not hurt but it did feel unnatural. After a moment, I noticed her demeanor shift to one that vaguely resembled remorse. Before I realized what was happening, I had been released and was on my knees with my torso and head resting against something small and soft.

I felt a pair of skinny arms wrap around my neck, but this time, it was so gentle that it felt angelic compared to the murderous grip seconds earlier. Though not entirely sure why, I wrapped my arms around the small form as I enjoyed the feeling of relief that was being emitted from her. As she continued to hold me, she whispered soothing statements like a mother consoling her frightened child.

As she held me, I felt my body mend itself by her command and aid. After what seemed like an eternity, she pushed me away slightly. She placed her right hand beneath my armored chin and gently lifted my head up to look at her. It was her! The same girl that I had met twenty years prior was the same entity that had been trying to kill me moments ago. Unsure if I should be resentful, happy, or frightened, I simply continued to look into her agonized eyes.

As if she sensed my inner conflict, she spoke into my mind, "Sorry. I not know you with armor. Forgive?" I nodded slowly in response. She smiled slightly as she guided me to my feet. As I towered over her, she briefly studied my changed appearance.

She remarked, "You big, strong now. Like Michael."

Excited, I asked, "You know where he is?" Her expression saddened and I felt my stomach drop as I feared what she was about to reveal. She said nothing. Instead, she glanced in the direction that I had been dragged.

She could not have been clearer if she had tried. Shocked, I exclaimed, "No way! Sergeant Becket?!" She nodded sadly. Confused, I asked, "Why is he…?"

She interrupted me as she explained, "Don't have memories. Armacham." In an instant, nearly all of my willingness to fight left me. My prayers had been answered: we had all been reunited. However, none of us were the same person that we had once been.

Broken, I asked, "And you?"

I felt a surge of fury emanate from her that was so chilling that I wanted to recoil away from her touch no matter how motherly it might seem. The rage I felt inside of her was indescribably negative. For whoever had been foolish enough to instill her with that boiling cauldron of raw anger, I prayed that, if there was indeed a higher deity or deities that judged us upon death, that said being or beings would have mercy on them because she would not.

She must have sensed the distress that she was causing me because the anger vanished as a look of sorrow formed on her pale heart-shaped face. She shook her head as she stated with a desperate tone, "No. No. No. Don't be afraid. Don't go. Stay with me. Please!"

The fragile, desperate tone in her voice relit the fire inside of me. My willingness to kill and fight returned. I laughed with repeated grunts before I said, "I don't have anywhere to go. I'm all your's."

Her sorrow left and she even smiled briefly before she said, "I need your help."

Without hesitation, I asked, "What needs to be done…boss?"

She giggled at the pet name before she replied, "Leave Becket to me. I need you to find someone for me while I concentrate on reawakening Michael's personality."

I nodded before I asked, "Who?"

She replied, "A Replica Trooper codenamed Foxtrot 813."

I thought for a minute before I informed her, "Command Post Sigma. The Foxtrots were sent there to secure the site from Armacham. If he is still alive, that is where I will find him."

She stated simply, "Kill him."

Stunned, I asked, "Why?"

She explained, "He is a clone of Fettel."

I asked, "As in Paxton Fettel?" She nodded.

I saw it in her eyes. I said, "I see…so the two Origin Prototypes…"

She interrupted me with a sad tone, "Mine."

Flashes of memories overtook my vision temporarily. I saw everything: Project Origin, The Synchronicity Events, Alma's (I finally learned her name) death and release from The Vault, Paxton Fettel, Point Man, and the death of the rogue commander by his own brother's hands. My vision returned to normal and I said softly, "I'm sorry."

She smiled in gratitude before she said, "Fettel…I told him not to revive himself. He is corrupt and power hungry now…he is no longer my son. He plans to use Foxtrot 813 to bring himself back into the physical realm. We must move quickly to prevent that from happening."

Curious, I asked, "How do you know that he is planning to use Foxtrot 813?"

Her eyes narrowed as she replied, "He told me."

Feeling stupid, I said, "Right…" I then asked, "Is there some way that Foxtrot 813 does not have to die?"

She shook her head before she said with an apologetic voice, "No, I'm sorry. It has to be done."

I nodded before I said with a plain voice, "Alright, Foxtrot 813 is as good as dead."

She smiled as she dissolved into a cloud of ash. In my mind, I heard her say, "I will be in touch. If you need help, just let me know. By the way, I am in control of your Replica Variant so my orders out rank any that your Replica Command gives you."

I nodded as I replied with my mind, "Copy that, ma'am." I retrieved my shotgun and reloaded it. As I mentally calculated the fastest way to get to Command Post Sigma, I spoke into my com link, "Alpha Team, this is your Heavy Trooper. Sound off."

They replied, "Alpha 2 here, sir."

"Alpha 3 here, sir."

"Alpha 4 here, sir."

"Alpha 5 here, sir."

Alpha 2, the team's second-in-command, asked, "What are your orders, sir?"

I replied, "Disregard primary orders. New orders are to track down and eliminate Replica Trooper Foxtrot 813. This comes directly from the top so disregard anything at command tells you. For now, rendezvous at the underground cargo train. Once we are above ground, we will proceed to Command Post Sigma to intercept Foxtrot 813."

Simultaneously, my men replied, "Roger that, sir. Proceeding to the cargo train."

Gripping my shotgun, I started running towards the hidden train that connected this facility with the facility at Still Island. As the facility started to shake from the demolition charges that the ATC Black-ops had deployed, I hoped that Michael and Alma were able to find the way out in time. The only other way out other than the train was the hydraulic cargo lift but it was habitually unreliable, as the valves had to be manually re-closed nearly every time that someone tried to use it.

Foxtrot 813 had to die. I hated the thought of killing one of my own kind when he had not personally done any harm to me, but it had to be done for the greater good. It would be the first time that a Replica was deliberately targeted for termination by his own brethren. He was a threat, however. For my friends, I would do it.

As I ran, I reflected on the change in Alma's personality. She seemed darker and more twisted than I remembered. Perhaps she and I were not so different. Isolation does horrible things to people's minds. I just hoped that, despite what ATC had done to her, she had retained enough of who she was to not accidentally or absentmindedly hurt Michael. Because I would not personally be able to be there to protect him, I would have to trust her.


	3. Chapter 3: Oops

Ch. 3: Oops

A.N.:

Hello, everyone reading this story. I know that it is not the same as my main story but I feel that it explains certain things in the main story. Oh, and yes, the airplane seen at the beginning of the level Ruin is the one described here. You know, the one that Becket sees crashing after exiting the elevator?

Due to the massive amount of college work that I have to do over the weekend, it is unlikely that I will have a new chapter for the main story posted by Monday. I will have it posted by next Friday…probably. Have faith ;)

Read and review if you want.

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><p>The clashing between ATC's Private Army and my fellow Replicas had heavily damaged the areas that I passed through as I made my way to the cargo train. I began to worry as I received more information and updates from Replica Command. Based on the reports, Michael was traveling through areas of heavy fighting. While he was a Delta Force Operator and an unnaturally gifted soldier that had the slow-mo ability on top of that, I still worried that he might underestimate the dire situation that Armacham had forced upon him.<p>

Alma seemed to be protecting him but she had to let him fend for himself as part of her process to reawaken his true personality. I did not worry about his ability to fight through the ATC Forces, which aside from Col. Vanek and his Black Ops were mediocre fighters at best, but I did worry about his ability to fight through my fellow Replicas.

Even Alma worried me. Project Origin had all but destroyed her. While I had no doubt that she loved Michael, I worried that she was so broken that she would inadvertently put his life in danger by being too compulsive with her actions. If he had teammates, I knew that she would systematically eliminate them one by one in order to isolate him and break him. She would have to break him, turn him into a broken soldier, in order to awaken his true personality. I just hoped that when she did, she knew how to put him back together.

As I approached a corner, I heard a man say, "Samuels, this is Mendez. Inform Coronel Vanek that the demolition charges are set and armed in Sector twenty."

I heard another man reply, "Copy that Mendez. What is the status of Sergeant Becket?"

Mendez said, "The Bitch showed up and killed the abomination that Vanek had strapped into the chair. I fell back and connected with the Demolition Team to ensure that the demolition was on schedule."

Samuels replied, "More like you shit and pissed yourself as you ran like Hell, right?"

Mendez said defensively, "My official story is that I fell back."

Samuels said, "Whatever you say. Get your ass and the Demolition Team topside. This shithole is coming down. We will let the demolition charges finish Becket off."

Mendez said, "Roger that." He then spoke to what I presumed to be the Demolition Team that he had connected with, "You heard the man. Let's get the fuck out of here."

I eased to the edge of the corner and cautiously peered around it. I saw four men dressed in typical ATC Mercenary attire and armed with Andra FD-99 Submachine Guns. There was a fifth man amongst them dressed in ATC Black Ops Heavy Soldier attire and he was armed with a pump action SHO Series-3 Combat Shotgun.

His blue, silver, and grey armor looked similar to the armor that the regular grunts wore except that it was noticeably bulkier and modified to absorb significantly more damage. A silver helmet, with a large blue visor that allowed him to see, protected his head. This was the first time that I had encountered this kind of unit. When I noticed the rows of shotgun shells at various points along the armor's surface, I had to wonder if this unit was Armacham's answer for Replica Heavy Troopers like me.

If it was, they were in for a rude awakening. Our armor may be bulky but beneath it, we were genetically engineered to be physically unhindered by the added weight. To me, I might as well have been wearing a lightweight t-shirt and running shorts.

This pathetic attempt of theirs to match us only confirmed, to me, that they were afraid of us. They feared us, and rightfully so considering what they had done to us. We were property to them, inventory to be stored in some warehouse. They failed to realize that despite our clone origins, we are not robots without any sense of the self. We bleed, sweat, have rational thoughts, and feel pain just like any other human being. The only difference between "real" human beings and us is that we have no fear of death. We would have our revenge.

They had their backs to me and against the wall next to them, I saw the two yellow barrels rigged with C4 plastic explosives that must have been the demolition charges that Mendez had mentioned. The barrels had the statement of "FLAMMABLE" written in large red letters in the middle section. Along the top, the warning, "DANGER" and below it, the warning, "HIGHLY VOLATILE" were both written in black lettering, though in smaller print than the red message below them.

I smirked at the sight. They made killing them almost too easy. Twisting around the corner with my shotgun raised, I aimed my shotgun at the yellow barrels. Mendez must have heard me because he started to turn as he said aloud, "Huh…?" I fired my shotgun. The tight spread of my shotgun's buckshot gave it almost rifle like accuracy, even at medium range. The barrels exploded, though it provided much less entertainment than I had expected.

Never the less, the explosion sent the men, a cry of terror included, flying against the opposite wall while it also ignited their clothing. Three of them, which had been the closest to the barrels, were killed outright while the one that had cried out in fear as he flew through the air succumbed to the flames soon after he had collided with the wall. Mendez rolled on the ground to extinguish the flames that were cooking his flesh underneath his armor.

Closing the distance, I charged at him as he continued to roll on the ground. Wanting to give the man a fair chance, I shouldered my automatic shotgun as I ran at him. There was no sport in simply shooting the enemy to death. Sure, when the situation demanded it, I understood the advantage that a firearm gave an individual but it felt so undignified to have to rely on the cold steel mechanical projectile launchers in order to kill someone.

There was just something so beautifully primal about hand-to-hand fighting that I felt drawn to. I suspected that the Heavy Trooper programming that Armacham had forced into my mind was the reason for my obsession with close-quarters fighting because my rational side understood that it was ill advised to risk giving my enemy any sort of opening.

As I neared him, he finally managed to stand though he had dropped his primary weapon in his panic-fueled rolling to extinguish the flames. He attempted to raise his Seegert ACM46 Pistol but I grabbed ahold of his right wrist. With a smooth motion, I twisted his wrist counterclockwise until he cried out and dropped the sidearm.

Catching the weapon in mid-fall with my left hand, I simultaneously pushed him back with my right hand. I must have pushed him harder than I thought because he lost his footing and landed on his ass. Holding the pistol in my palm with the tactical rail covered barrel between my thumb and index finger and with the magazine pointed towards me, I raised it out in front of me for the man to watch.

Clenching my left hand, I crushed the durable sidearm to the point of being usable only as a paperweight. After tossing it off to the left, I raised my right hand and wagged my index finger at him like a teacher scolding a student. Remaining silent, I then motioned for him to attack me. The man rose to his feet as he commented, "You want some big guy?"

After balling his right hand into a fist, he sent a right punch at my ceramic face. Catching his right fist in the palm of my left hand, I shook my head in disappointment. As I crushed his hand, I reach out with my gloved right hand and grabbed ahold of the breast area of his heavy Kevlar armor. Using his right hand as a focal point, I launched him over my left shoulder. Having released my grip on his fist and armor at the appropriate moment, the man landed on his back behind me.

I turned and looked down at him while he groaned and continued to lie on the ground. I shook my head again before I remarked with my deep voice, "Disappointing. Armor with no substance to back it up."

The man replied, "Holy shit, you Heavy Armors can actually talk?"

Briefly amused by his curiosity, I shrugged in response. He scrambled to his feet and turned to face me. He tried to punch me with his left hand but, having become bored with him, I simply reached up with both hands and clamped down on both sides of his helmet.

Twisting counterclockwise in a smooth motion, I rotated his head one hundred and eighty degrees. The sounds of screaming and snapping vertebrae filled the air until it suddenly stopped all together. His corpse remained upright and standing before me for a moment. I raised my right hand with my index finger extended and pushed the corpse onto its back with little effort.

Turning, I retrieved my shotgun and glanced at the timers on the demolition charges. The timers indicated that they were set to detonate in exactly ten minutes. I contacted Replica Command, "Command, this is Alpha 1. I have terminated one of Colonel Vanek's Lieutenants: Mendez. He was with a demolition team, which I have also eliminated. According to the demolition charges that I have discovered, this facility is set to be destroyed in exactly…nine minutes fifty-three seconds. Please advise, over."

My orange hued HUD displayed the image of a Replica Heavy Trooper in the bottom right hand corner as I received the response, "Alpha 1, Command wishes to congratulate and recognize you for your achievement. Outstanding work trooper. Regarding the demolition charges, Command is already aware of the situation but after an examination of the facility, it was concluded that the facility is not worth the effort that would be required to save it. It is simply too damaged to save. Evacuation has already commenced via cargo elevator and is nearing completion. Only the Rear Guard Team and your squad remain in the facility."

I replied, "Copy that Command. Alpha Team is evacuating via cargo train."

The Heavy Trooper asked, "By whose authority? You were not authorized to use that train. Alpha 1, explain your actions."

I replied, "I was authorized by our leader. I am on a classified assignment that is outside the jurisdiction of Replica Command."

The Trooper said, "Understood. Make _her_ proud soldier."

I smirked beneath my armored face before I replied, "Roger that Command."

I deactivated my com link and started to run towards the cargo train. Eventually, I arrived at the loading platform. The rest of Alpha Team was waiting for me. As I boarded the train, which was more of a monorail than a traditional train, the standard Replica Troopers went to attention where they were and saluted me. I returned it before I said, "Carry on."

They simultaneously replied, "Yes, sir."

I looked at Alpha 2 and said, "Alpha 2, permission granted to depart."

He replied, "Copy that, sir." He ordered Alpha 3, who was standing in front of control panel, "You heard the heavy. Let's go." Alpha 3 typed on the panel and the train began to depart from the station.

As we left the station, a prerecorded message with a female voice said, "In route to…Storage Facility Number: 0055. Please exercise caution while the tram is in motion."

Tram? So, that is what these things were called. I would have to remember that. Turning around to look back, I gave a silent farewell to the facility that had been my home for the last twenty years. When it disappeared from view, I turned back to see Alpha 2-5 standing before me expectantly. Alpha 2 said, "Sir, no insubordination intended, but we wish to know why we are intercepting Foxtrot 813."

Not wanting to leave my men in the dark, I replied, "Full disclosure…deceased rogue commander Paxton Fettel is planning to use Foxtrot 813 as a means of reviving himself. _She_ wants us to prevent that from happening."

The Replica Troopers looked at each other before looking back at me. Alpha 2 said, "Understood, sir."

Before I could reply, Alpha 5 suddenly pointed behind us as he said, "Sir, hostile contacts!" I swiftly turned to look and saw another cargo tram on a separate track coming up alongside ours.

On-board, I saw an ATC Team of ten ATC Black Ops Soldiers armed with submachine guns, two ATC Black Ops Heavy Troopers armed with combat shotguns, and one Black Ops Pyro armed with a napalm cannon. They seemed just as surprised to see us as we were to see them. I ordered, "Take cover and concentrate fire on the Pyro!"

We took cover behind the large metal shipping crates that Armacham had left on the tram. They were conveniently in the shape of a line and were just large enough for two of us to take cover behind one of them. Crouched down with Alpha 3 beside me, Alpha 5 behind the next box, and Alpha 2 and 4 behind the box after that, I raised my shotgun but refrained from firing until the ATC occupied tram moved closer.

Meanwhile, my men began firing their assault rifles at the Pyro. It was essential that we neutralized the heavily armored fire unit before we got within the effective range of his napalm cannon. However, the ATC Black Ops Soldiers were providing suppressive fire that was simply too coordinated for my men to effectively fire their weapons. One pair of ATC grunts would unleash a barrage from their submachine guns and force us back behind cover while the other teams were reloading.

Meanwhile, the distance between us kept getting closer and closer as the tunnel narrowed. Realizing that I had to act, I placed my shotgun off to the side before I retrieved my Andra SR5 Missile Launcher. Using my heavy armor to absorb the incoming fire, I aimed through the side-mounted scope and fired a round aimed just before the Pyro to allow for the seconds that it would take the missile to reach him.

The warhead traveled through the air, leaving a smoke trial behind it as it did so. Seconds later, the warhead hit home in the center of the Pyro's chest. The resulting fireball consumed the four nearby Black Ops Soldiers and ignited the man on either side of them. Having neutralized the Pyro and four of the Black Ops Soldiers while wounding two Black Ops Soldiers, I returned my missile launcher and retrieved my shotgun.

Alpha 3 roughly patted my left shoulder two times with his right hand as a sign of his approval. From where he was, Alpha 2 commented, "Fine shot, sir." The remaining ATC Soldiers regrouped and the tram finally closed to medium range. Aiming my shotgun, I ordered, "Concentrate fire on the Black Ops Heavy Troopers!" We began firing our weapons at the two shotgun-wielding mercenaries. Due to their armor, it took several cycles of taking cover to avoid the incoming fire and then popping up to unleash our own fire before they finally collapsed onto the ground.

The remaining six Black Ops Soldiers continued to fire upon us from behind cover. By that time, their tram had closed to close range and I worried that they might attempt to board ours. I ordered my men, "Prepare to repel boards. Fire at will." Individually picking targets, we started firing upon our diminished enemy.

We had neutralized all but two of them when the female voice said, "Warning. Obstruction detected."

I looked to our right to see that the large tubular tracks that the two trams followed were more than just obstructed. In fact, the tracks were gone and the end sections just before the breaks were pointed up towards the roof of the tunnel. My brother, as I am telling you this story, I now suspect that the Origin Explosion had caused a large multistory building to collapse and the building had in turn, collapsed the roof of the tunnel. I yelled out, "Shit, hold on!"

Knowing that there was not enough time to reach the control panel, I simply found the sturdiest looking object and grabbed onto it. The woman's voice said, "Obstruction detec…" The derailment of the tram interrupted the automated warning. With the end of the track bent upwards, the tram followed it straight into the roof of the tunnel. The force of the impact caused me to black out.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself lying face down. Something was wrong, my HUD was gone and I heard absolutely nothing but silence. I clenched my hands and their gloved digits dug into soft material instead of the hard unforgiving concrete that I had been expecting. By that time, I had become aware of tall, slender stalks of some kind of plant brushing up against my form as if they were swaying in some undetectable breeze.

Confused, I pushed myself onto my feet. The sight that greeted my vision shocked me as well as defied my ability to figure out how I had gotten there. I was in an endless meadow made up of tall, tan, stalks of grass. It was the most beautiful sight that I had ever seen. The natural beauty of the open field with no barriers, walls, or even a roof incalculably dwarfed the dismal, damp, concrete and steel jungle that had been my home for so long.

I bent down and dug my right hand into the soft material of the floor. Scooping up a handful of the strange, powdery light brown substance, I raised my hand up to be able to examine the alien material. After playing with the material with my left index finger for a moment, I balled my right hand into a fist. I stood and slowly allowed the material to escape from my grasp.

I watched as the trail of almost dust like material scattered into many individual particles under the influence of the undetectable breeze until it had all left my balled fist. Sorrow filled me as I realized that I had been so isolated from the rest of the world that even the humble dirt of the Earth that most people viewed as a necessary but insignificant substance that they saw in some form nearly every day of their lives was able to captivate me with such intensity.

I had never even seen the Sun, Moon, or stars but I had heard that they were all beautiful in their own way. Nor had I seen real plants or seen a vast expanse of open space with no walls that seemed to exist only to remind me that I was a prisoner of a corporation. After being confined to the stasis pod for so long, it felt almost scary to be so free.

I was startled out of my day dreaming when a young girl's voice asked, "Do you like my meadow?" I wheeled around to see Alma, in her young form, standing a few inches away from me. She smiled before she said, "I didn't mean to scare you."

I replied defensively, "I was startled, not scared."

She giggled in amusement for a moment before she said, "This is my favorite created world. No mean people, no bad memories…mostly, and my own swing."

I questioned, "Swing?"

She turned and pointed up towards a lone tree that I had not noticed before. The tree seemed to be nucleus of the entire meadow; the only island in the never-ending sea of grass. From my vantage point, I could make out a simple swing made out of two segments of rope and a wooden board. I commented, "It is nice here. So open…and…free."

She turned back and smiled at me for a moment before she lectured with a motherly tone, "Please, be more careful in the future. You were built to be a walking juggernaut but even your body has its limits."

Embarrassed, I asked, "You…saw that?"

She nodded in response before she said, "I care about you as if you were my blood son. Please, be more careful. Michael will need you once he starts to awaken."

Connecting the dots, I asked, "That vision you showed me all those years ago…that was…us?"

She nodded slightly in response. I said, "I understand. I will try to exercise more caution in the future, ma'am."

She smiled for a moment before she said, "You can call me mom or mother…if you want."

I replied, "Yes…mother."

She whispered, "Thank you." Then, with her normal voice, she said, "Foxtrot 813 is about to be deployed, get to him before Fettel contacts him."

I nodded as I replied, "Yes, ma'a…mother." She smiled and my vision faded back into darkness.

I opened my eyes to find myself lying prostrate with hard, cracked asphalt underneath me. After collecting my senses, I realized that I was surrounded by the wreckage of the tram. Flames crackled off to my right and electrical sparks sizzled off to my left. I was relieved to see that my right hand had retained a firm grip on my automatic shotgun. Groaning from soreness, I pushed myself to my feet.

Looking around, I discovered that the tram had plowed through the asphalt surface of a street in a heavily damaged section of the city. Around me, once proud buildings were either gutted shells whose innards were now piled in the streets, or were toppled mountains of glass, steel, furniture, and concrete. Despite my surroundings, I mentally celebrated for having had finally reaching the surface. Even this apocalyptic landscape was more inviting than that dungeon that I had been confined in for so long.

I heard groaning to my right and saw Alpha 3 emerging from a pile of bricks as he stood. I asked him, "Alpha 3, are you okay?" He gave a weak thumbs up in response. I smiled beneath my ceramic face before I informed him, "Your body is still in shock. Don't force it. Give yourself a minute."

He replied, "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

I heard more groaning behind me and turned to see Alpha 2 and 4 getting to their feet. Looking around, I located Alpha 5 off to my left and saw that he was getting to his feet as well.

I called out, "Alpha Team, give yourself time to shake off the shock and find a weapon if you lost yours. We are moving out in one minute."

They replied, "Roger that, sir."

They began to search amongst the rubble for their assault rifles while I examined my shotgun. I was relieved when everything appeared to be in working order. We had just regrouped with weapons at the ready when I heard the sound of an approaching helicopter.

As it drew closer, I realized that it was not Yankee 2's engine signature. Instead, it sounded like a Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk. Before I could order my men to take cover, the enemy chopper appeared from behind the gutted remains of an office building. I yelled, "They must be investigating the tram wreck. Take cover!" As we scrambled to find adequate protection, I noticed the miniguns mounted on her left and right side.

Horrified, I informed my team, "That is a Direct Action Penetrator model. Get your head down and stay down!" I had just managed to find cover when the right mounted minigun opened up on our position. We continued to dart in and around the maze of brick wall remnants and other building parts as the Black Hawk's minigun pulverized the feeble pieces of cover as if they were made of powder.

As I ran with my head down, I retrieved my missile launcher. If I could get an opening, I had a good chance of neutralizing the airborne menace. Finally, I saw an opening when the minigun operator had gotten too trigger-happy and the barrels had overheated. Aiming my launcher, I prepared to fire a round. However, in my haste to destroy the chopper, I had failed to notice that what I was standing on was not the side of a building, as I had thought.

Instead, what I was standing on was a cracked window. As I pulled the trigger on my launcher, the glass gave way and I fell through the shallow hole. The hole was no deeper than my knees but it was enough to cause my body to jerk the launcher straight up into the air. The warhead rocketed straight up into the ash-filled sky.

The next few seconds were perhaps the most entertaining of my life. Though my shot had missed the helicopter completely, it did indeed hit something. As I watched spellbound, a commercial airliner descended out of the ash-filled sky. Seemingly against all odds, the warhead fired from my launcher detonated in mid-air just before the engine mounted on its right wing.

The blast crippled the engine and flames soon trailed the engine as the aircraft noticeably began to lose altitude. I followed the aircraft as it plummeted towards the ground. When it disappeared from view, I continued to listen to the trailing sound of its last remaining engine. Moments later, the sound of a crash echoed through the air before the ground and buildings shook from the shock-waves.

Remembering the Black Hawk, I quickly ducked behind cover before the minigun operator shook off his disbelief about what had just occurred. As I leaned against the thick concrete wall of a building, beside me Alpha 2 gave me a questioning gesture.

I looked at him as I sheepishly replied, "Oops."

Moments later, a second loud explosion rocked the area except this one pulsed through the air as a red/orange shock-wave. As the shock-wavestruck the Black Hawk, the chopper shook and one second later, flames began to billow from the engine vents. As I watched in amazement, the helicopter pilot lost control and the bird crashed into the nearby gutted office building. I reloaded my missile launcher and fired a second round. This time, the warhead hit home and the helicopter exploded.

I moved out from behind cover and motioned for my men to follow me. Returning my launcher to my inventory, I retrieved my shotgun. I started to try to locate a street sign in an attempt to find out where I was. However, I never got the chance. Before I could react, a small mass suddenly impacted my frame and clung to me. It was Alma. She was bawling incoherently as she had her tiny arms wrapped tightly around my waist and had her head against my armored abdomen.

Alarmed, I started rubbing her back to with my left hand while I tried to understand what had upset her. Eventually, she calmed down enough to look up at me with pale, almost translucent, cheeks covered with bloody tears. She said between sniffles, "He…got…away…from…me."

Confused, I assured her, "That is a good thing though. That means that he escaped the facility before the demolition charges went off."

My statement seemed to get through to her and her sporadic spasms of renewed crying fits eventually ceased. Trying to raise her spirits, I informed her, "I just shot down an airliner." Instantly, her pale lips formed a smile and shortly afterward, she started to giggle.

After a moment, she asked, "That was you?"

I replied, "Yes. I fell through a window while I was aiming at a helicopter and instead the missile went straight up. So, it was an accident."

She stepped back as she started to giggle again. However, she stopped and asked, "Wait, helicopter?" I pointed at the flaming hulk lodged in the office building.

As she looked, I informed her, "After the plane crashed, a second explosion caused a shock-wave that brought the helicopter down. When it crashed, I destroyed it with a second shot from my missile launcher."

She looked back at me as she explained, "That second explosion was me…I was so angry at myself for losing him. I guess I got carried away. On the plus side, I activated all the remaining Variant VII Replicas and helped you…apparently."

I nodded before I said, "See…it all worked out." She smiled and lightly nodded in agreement.

After a moment, I asked, "Well…I guess you should go do your thing and I will go after Foxtrot 813."She nodded and started to dissolve into a cloud of ash, but, thinking quickly, I asked her, "Wait, which way to Command Post Sigma? I am kind of lost here." She rematerialized and pointed behind her to the right. Before I could get her to be more specific, she dissolved completely.

In my mind, she said apologetically, "I'm sorry but I need to go kill this…Sergeant Griffin. With him gone, Michael will have to do all the heavy fighting for his team…alone. Sergeant Keegan is slowly losing his mind to my influence, Sergeant Morales is just their APC driver, and Lieutenant Stokes…she may be immune to my psychic influence but she is not as well trained in terms of fighting as the members of Dark Signal. They will have no choice but send Becket in to do their heavy fighting."

I shivered for a second before I said, "Damn…I understand why you are putting him through this and I definitely want to have Michael back but…isn't there some other way?"

Her voice saddened when she explained, "No…if I show him his memories, he will explain them away as a trick on my part to get him to lower his guard. I have to break him. It is the only way."

She sighed before she continued, "When he was young, his mind could easily remember me after they used those drugs to erase his memories. Now…something horrible has happened to him…recently…very recently. His mind is still locked up from whatever happened to him. Right now, he is running completely on military training and instinct, which is why he will not talk. I am amazed that he was even deployed with this…Dark Signal. I imagine that it has something to do with Armacham, but I am not sure."

She continued with an almost crazed voice, "Armacham…what they did to him in that facility…I cannot stop thinking about him. I…I…want him…no…I need him. I am…feeling…urges…for him that I can't understand."

Alarmed, I replied, "Alma…snap out of it! You are going to put his life in danger if you don't control yourself."

She breathed deeply before she said, "Okay…I'll try. I need to go. We will be in touch."

With that, she left my mind and I was left with my objective to terminate Foxtrot 813. I looked back at my men, who were patiently waiting, and said, "Let's move out."


	4. Chapter 4: Shoot Foxtrot 813 on sight

Ch. 4: Shoot Foxtrot 813 on sight

A.N.:

So, Alpha 1 does make an in game appearance ha-ha. Since that Heavy Trooper is not named in game and only appears as a scripted event, I figured that it was fair game.

In case you are wondering, Alpha 1 was partially inspired by a glitch I ran into in Origin. I was playing through the level Replica and I found a Heavy Trooper that did not attack me. He aimed at me, moved around, and even followed me as if he was chasing me. I looked around online but no one else seems to have run into that so I have no clue what caused it. I took a video but the memory got corrupted.

My workload is going to be heavy again this weekend so an update for the main story might be late again. Sorry about that. I will try to get it done tomorrow but I cannot make any promises.

Anyway, read and review this story if you want. I appreciate those of you that are taking the time to read both stories.

Again, to my early readers, please forgive the errors. I am doing this and school work at the same time so I am not as thorough as I could be. Give me a day or two and look at the chapter again and I should have corrected the major issues.

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><p>I said to my team, "Keep your eyes open. The area is perfect for snipers."<p>

They replied, "Yes, sir."

The rubble-filled streets were proving to be extremely difficult to navigate. The operational traffic signals seemed out of place in the ruined city. Dotting the roads and sidewalks were the silent, human shaped memorials of ash that marked the spot and posture of the unfortunate citizens that had been caught in the blast.

Something was off. Even with the magnitude of the explosion, there should have been more remains or signs of the people that had once walked the city's streets. Statistically, there should have been survivors or at least more remains of the citizens than what we were encountering. As the ash rained down on us like a light snowstorm, I noted how silent the entire city was. Only hours earlier, it had been a bustling metropolis. Now, it was as silent as a graveyard.

The crypt like spaces of the interiors of collapsed buildings were unsettling to travel through to say the least. As we navigated the dark, slanted hallways, I could have sworn that I had heard the sound of people crying out for help but as we learned the first time we attempted to reach one of the voices, they were coming from areas that were obviously uninhabitable. Whatever those voices were, I had no doubt that their intentions were very sinister.

Finally, after about an hour of traveling, we emerged from an underground garage that we had accessed using a sewer line and there towering above the huge clouds of dust were the twin skyscrapers of Command Post Sigma. The buildings had been in the process of being constructed when the Origin Explosion occurred. The two buildings were affiliated with Armacham, but that was not unique in Fairport since ATC had been the reason for the city's economic success and growth.

In fact, in one way or another, Armacham owned and operated almost everything in Fairport. It was the city's dirty secret that was carefully hidden from the majority of the population in order to keep them all docile and ignorant. In a way, Fairport's decline into a decaying metropolis due to the abandoning of the Auburn District was symbolic of how ATC had risen to power only to slowly poison itself to death.

I failed to detect any signs of heavy fighting in or around the command post. The observation gave me hope that we were going to be able to intercept Foxtrot 813 before things got out of hand. If the path was clear, we would be able to reach the site in less than five minutes. However, it seemed that fate had other plans. When the entrance to the construction site came into view, we ran into an obstacle.

The burned out hulk of a city bus blocked our path. After quickly studying my surroundings to locate an alternative route, I led my team over to a nearby door that allowed access to what looked like an average corner drug/convenience store. The main exit/entrance of the store was on the other side of the bus so all we had to do was get to them and we could still beat Foxtrot 813 to the command post.

The dust covered white sign above the door had a message written in black letters. It read, "Employee entrance only." I extended my left hand out to grasp the door handle but as my gloved hand touched the steel grey door, it fell back through the door frame and impacted the ground with an unceremonious crash.

The interior was pitch black. Using my left thumb, I activated the tactical L.E.D flashlight mounted on my shotgun. The cold blue beam revealed a storeroom with stainless steel wireframe shelves that were filled with various food, hygiene, and household items. As far as I could tell, nothing had been disturbed since the explosion.

The observation disturbed me. The store was in one of the densest parts of the city. My programming informed me that in cases of a widespread break down in law enforcement and civil order, these convenience stores were prime targets for looters. If there were any survivors, surely these shelves would be empty. The explosion had been massive, but there should have been survivors. Then it occurred to me: Armacham. Perhaps they were so desperate to bury the truth that they considered even civilians as potential threats. If they were willing to kill their own employees, then they certainly would not have any qualms about killing civilians.

Still, we could not take any chances now that we were so close. There may be a threat lying in wait inside the dark building. We would have to be as quiet as possible. It was time to use old school military hand signals. I turned back to face my men. After releasing my left hand from my shotgun's pump, I extended my left index finger at them. Without speaking, I extended my left arm out with my palm up. I then ordered them to "follow me" by motioning towards my body in a beckoning manner. They gave me a thumbs up with their right hands to acknowledge the command.

Returning my left hand to my shotgun's pump/foregrip, I turned back towards the open doorway. Cautiously, I entered the dark interior with my weapon at the ready. The storeroom was filled with supplies but was otherwise just as deserted as I had initially assessed. The air was filled with dust, or ash, that resembled flurries of snow in the narrow but powerful beam of my flashlight. The building was eerily quiet like a tomb.

Taking point, I led my team through the room and to the door that provided access to the main area of the store. Everything remained quiet until I reached the door. As I did, I suddenly heard what sounded like a communication device that was not muffled like the com links that were standard for our forces and various Special Forces. The instant that I heard the device activate and emit static, I extended my left arm out horizontally and then lowered it down to my side to order my men to "take cover".

My caution proved to be unnecessary though because seconds later, I heard a middle-aged man say, "Attention all teams, Colonel Vanek has advised all teams to avoid contact with encountered civilians, and especially those that appear to be behaving strangely. We have lost contact with every single team that reported seeing a civilian and that they were investigating. Do not approach them or attempt to contact them. Leave the area immediately and find an alternate route to your assignment. Report the sighting with GPS coordinates so that we can properly warn other teams."

So, there were survivors. It appeared that there was some unusual phenomenon associated with them as well. The device deactivated and the building was silent once more. I signaled to my team and we rallied at the door. I took a step back before charging forward. Using my right leg and the momentum of my charge, I kicked open the locked door.

Alpha 2 took point temporarily as we proceeded through the door, or as it was sometimes referred to as "the vertical coffin". Once we were all through the door, I took point once again. The dark store had five long shelves that took up most of the space. On the opposite side of the store was the row of checkout stations and the pharmacy counter.

In the comparison to the untouched storeroom, the main area was a warzone. Bullet holes covered the walls and spent cartridges littered the floor. The mangled, bloodied corpses of six Armacham mercenaries were located in various places. One laid in a pool of his blood up against one of the clear glass refrigeration units. On the ground around him were glass shards and between his spread legs was a black handheld two-way radio. That must have been the source of the man's voice from earlier.

I walked over to the corpse and studied the hired thug. However, the more I studied his wounds, the less sense they made. The bullet wounds were from light penetration rounds that were likely from one of their own submachine guns. They were so frightened that they were shooting each other as they fled. Based on the wounds, I concluded that they were running towards the storeroom and firing blindly behind them.

Whatever it was, it must have appeared on the opposite side of the store. Alpha 4 informed me, "Sir, judging by the casing locations I hypothesize that they were taken by surprise and were not in a tactical formation when they started shooting. Whatever killed them appears to have been on the opposite side of the store."

I looked away from the corpse and at my team. I said, "Agreed. We move. Formation: wedge. Double time, we cannot afford any distractions."

They simultaneously replied, "Yes, sir." Proceeding to the opposite side of the store, we moved as a wedge with our weapons raised and at the ready. As we neared the main entrance, it seemed like we were going to get through the building without wasting time by facing whatever it was that had wiped out the Armacham grunts.

Suddenly, I saw movement over by the pharmacy counter. Stopping while simultaneously swinging my body so I was aiming my shotgun at the movement, I called out through my com link, "Contact! Over by the pharmacy counter!"

My flashlight illuminated what looked like a man with a slightly bloated body. He was wearing a white coat that resembled the lab coats that the ATC scientists wore except his was stained with blood and had a name tag on his left pectoral area that was inscribed, with black letters, "Hello, My name is: Greg".

He seemed to be ignorant of our presence even though our blinding, weapon-mounted flashlights were all aimed at him. At first, we did not shoot because he was a civilian and was therefore a noncombatant. He was humming a classical melody that gave me a strange feeling of déjà vu; like something that I had once heard coming from an old music box. As he moved from the checkout register to the shelves that were filled with prescriptions and then back again as if he was oblivious to the apocalyptic state of not only himself but also the store, his movements were jerky and unusual. To me, he almost seemed to be possessed by some kind of external influence.

Alpha 2's image appeared in my HUD as my com link activated. He asked, "Sir, orders?"

I replied, "Move out."

He answered, "Copy."

We all turned and started to make our way towards the exit. We had not made it more than two steps before I accidentally stepped on a child's toy that looked like a purple elephant. The toy made a squeak as I lifted my foot. At first, it seemed insignificant but seconds later, a loud scream filled the air.

Swiveling to look back at the civilian, I was shocked to see that he had started running towards the other side of the store while what looked like red strings flew from him to the corpses of the ATC mercenaries. Alarmed, I yelled, "What the Hell?! Open fire!"

I hip fired a round from my automatic shotgun at the fleeing man and scored a direct hit. The man continued to run as if nothing had happened. Making matters worse, as if they were puppets, the corpses of the deceased mercenaries rose to their feet and began firing at us with their pistols, though in a somewhat awkward stance and with horrible accuracy.

Under a hail of our combined gunfire, the animated corpses fell back the ground. I could still hear the man making strange noises so I ordered my team, "Search the area." We fanned out as we began to sweep the store for the strange man. As I moved towards the strange noises, I mentally asked, 'What is this guy?'

My answer came as I heard Alma say in my mind, "A remnant. There are many located within the city. Basically, he is a survivor that has been driven insane by my psychic energy. Watch out, he is like a puppet master. He reanimates corpses to serve as his bodyguards but they are only dangerous if he has a lot of them. Don't get too close to him. He will emit a loud scream that will disorient you long enough for him to either escape or attack you. He has a powerful melee that can bypass armor and cause severe injury."

I questioned, "Why can't you just call him off or something?"

She explained, "Unlike my other apparitions, specters and remnants are not entirely of my own creation. They are what remain of the population of Fairport. My anger and psychic energy corrupted them but that was not…like…planned…or anything. I do not have any control over them and they will attack any living being on sight in the case of the specters, and upon provocation in the case of the remnants."

I replied, "Understood. Thank you for the intelligence, mother."

She said with a gentle tone, "Of course, my son."

I smiled slightly beneath my armored face in response to the name. I felt her presence leave my mind and focused back on the hostile remnant. As I neared the corpse with the radio between its legs, it tried to stand but I neutralized it with a round from my shotgun. As it collapsed back onto the ground, the remnant appeared as it turned to head down the aisle towards me.

I stopped and fired three rounds at the approaching threat. To maintain a safe distance, I moved backwards as I continued to fire rounds at him. My shots alerted my team to the remnant's location and within seconds, the four Replica Troopers opened fire on the remnant from behind me as I continued to move backwards. By the time that I reached them, I had emptied my magazine and by my estimates, the members of my team had individually emptied two clips into the man.

I reloaded my shotgun and began another barrage of buckshot. Even with our combined fire, the remnant continued his advance towards us. Enraged, I cried out, "Die motherfucker!" I then sent one final shot into the remnant's head. As my buckshot stuck the remnant's head, the apparition gave off an ear-splitting shriek.

The scream briefly caused my vision to fail but I quickly recovered. When my vision returned moments later, I observed that there was no trace of the remnant and the corpse with the radio seemed to have exploded as well. As I reloaded my shotgun, the radio activated once more. Over the sound of an EPA's cannon fire, a man said with a panicked voice, "It's on a rampage!"

The voice changed to a different individual and the sound of EPA cannon fire ceased. The man said, "Attention all teams near the construction site, a Replica Elite Power Armor unit has orbital dropped at your location. It has already shot down at least two Black Hawks and killed several of our men. All nearby teams are ordered to proceed to the construction site and destroy that EPA. Replica Forces have already gained a foothold in the building adjacent to the current location of the EPA. It is believed that the Replica Trooper operating the unit was sent to reinforce the Replicas in the second building. He cannot be allowed to reach them…"

The man was interrupted by an older man with a loud voice that allowed me to identify the man as Colonel Vanek. Vanek barked, "Attention all fuck-ups, Upper Management is running out of patience for our operations to be completed. They won't fucking tolerate any more fucking setbacks. Because of your incompetence, our extraction is in fucking jeopardy. What is so fucking hard about killing a bunch of fucking stupid fucking clones?! Stop being a bunch of pussies! Now, management has agreed to allot us forty-eight more hours to compete our mission in return for a deduction of a fourth of the original payment. Get shit done or we will be on our own. End transmission."

I mentally cursed our misfortune. Foxtrot 813 had beaten us to Sigma. I wheeled around to face the exit and started to run. Using my weight and momentum, I bull charged straight through the powerless automatic doors. In the air around the first skyscraper, I saw tracer fire and seconds later, I saw a third Black Hawk explode. That must have been Foxtrot's EPA that was causing so much destruction.

I did a quick calculation in my head and realized that it was unlikely that we would be able to reach Sigma's com-center before Foxtrot 813 got there. We needed a way to slow him down. Knowing that she was listening, I said in my mind, "Mother, I need more time."

After a moment, she replied, "I just caused the lift that his EPA was on to fall. The EPA is in auto repair mode and the level that I dropped him to is a dead end for the EPA. Foxtrot will have to get to the command post on foot once he reaches the collapsed crane."

I said, "Much obliged."

She briefly giggled in response to my statement before she replied, "No problem. Hurry though, Fettel is about to contact Foxtrot."

With my team right behind me, I entered the construction site and ran towards the building that housed the command post. In the air between the two buildings, I saw the collapsed crane that had become a makeshift bridge. In the brief second that I glanced up at it, I could have sworn that I saw a trooper running across it, but that could have just been my paranoia.

As we entered the main lobby of the building, a standard Replica Trooper stopped us by holding up his left hand. As I approached him, the trooper asked me, "What is your call sign? What is your purpose here?"

I replied, "Alpha 1, commander of Alpha Team. I am here on a classified assignment. Now, no disrespect but get out of my way trooper."

He stepped back as he said, "Apologies, sir. Go ahead."

I ran towards the elevator and pressed the call button. As I waited for the elevator to arrive, I impatiently stretched my back. Finally, the doors opened and we entered the device. Once we were all inside, I looked at the options and cursed when I saw that the elevator did not go up to the floor with the command post. It did get close however so I pressed the button of the highest floor option. The doors closed and the elevator began to ascend.

As we waited, I contacted Replica Command. I said, "Command, this is Alpha 1. For reasons that do not concern you, I need you to stall Foxtrot 813 as long as you can."

The image of a Replica Heavy Trooper appeared in my HUD as Command replied, "Alpha 1, we have just lost contact with Foxtrot and Command Post Sigma. There is some kind of interference that is originating from the epicenter of the explosion."

The doors opened and we exited the elevator. We were a few floors below the command post. If we hurried, we could still reach him in time. Luck finally seemed to be on our side when I saw the freight elevator that most likely went up to the right floor. However, as we started to make our way to it, the image of a Replica Heavy Trooper appeared in my HUD. He said, "All squads, Foxtrot 813 has gone rogue. Shoot on sight. Repeat, shoot Foxtrot 813 on sight."

Seconds later, I heard the freight elevator descending. I ordered my team, "Take position. Alpha 3, press the call button so the elevator the stops on this floor."

They all replied, "Yes, sir."

After Alpha 3 pressed the button, I retrieved my missile launcher. Moments later and before Alpha 3 could regroup with the other members of my team, the elevator stopped on our floor. Inside, I saw Foxtrot 813 for the first time. He wore standard Variant VII Replica Trooper armor and was armed with a Patten PK470 assault rifle. Strangely, his helmet's visor emitted a green light instead of the standard yellow color.

As my team fired at him from behind cover, Alpha 2 suggested, "Target the supports."

I aimed my launcher and fired a round. The warhead struck the elevator's supports and the device immediately started a fiery descent. Moments later, we heard and felt the elevator crash several floors below us.

I spoke into my com link to the Replicas on that floor, "Can you confirm that Foxtrot 813 is down?"

A Replica Trooper replied, "We do not have visual confirmation. We are initiating a sweep."

Shame filled me as my instincts told me that he had survived and that now we would have to play hide and seek in order to find him. As I retrieved my automatic shotgun, Alma appeared at my side. Out of shame, I tried to turn away. However, she gently pulled me back to face her. As I looked at her, she assured me with a gentle tone, "It is alright. I am not disappointed. Foxtrot 813 is an unusually gifted soldier so don't beat yourself up. Find him and kill him."

I nodded before I replied, "Yes, mother."

She smiled as she dissolved into a cloud of ash. I turned to my men and said, "Move out."


	5. Chapter 5: Phase Commander

Ch. 5: Phase Commander

A.N.:

So, in this chapter, we learn how Alpha 1 was captured by Armacham the second time. In the next chapter, we see what happened to him and why he hates the Phase Commanders.

The next chapter for The Broken Soldier will be posted tomorrow probably. Wednesday at the latest. It's my Spring Break so I finally got a chance to update this story.

Read and review if you want.

I know that Alpha 1 isn't near as interesting as Becket and Alma but I think that he deserves his own story since he backs up Becket as they go to Hell and back in the main story on multiple occasions.

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><p>"Get the heavy armors deployed!" I ordered as my squad and I ran towards the maze of plywood. Foxtrot 813 had somehow wiped out most of the search team and fled towards the maze by the time that we had reached the floor. The rogue Replica was tough, I would give him that. Even still, there was no way that he would get past the heavy armor units.<p>

My com link activated and I saw the image of a Replica Heavy Trooper from Replica Command as he said, "Heavy Armors deployed."

I heard a section of plywood shatter and seconds later, I heard the sound of a Hammerhead firing. I said to my squad, "Move in. Cut off his escape!"

They replied, "Yes, sir!"

We neared the maze and heard more plywood sections shattering and more Hammerheads firing. I failed to hear Foxtrot returning fire, which meant that either he was out of ammunition or he was running away from the heavy armors. The firing got further and further away and, to my amazement, moments later a Replica reported, "Foxtrot has evaded the heavy armors."

'Who the fuck is this guy?' I wondered moments later as I continued to pursue Foxtrot 813. He had somehow evaded the Heavy Armors and had forced my squad to purse him through a crumbling, collapsed office building. All Replicas were tough combatants, but this was starting to get a little ridiculous. No standard trooper should have been capable of what he had done.

I informed my men, "Watch your feet, this building is settling."

After free-falling down to another level of the ruined, burning interior, I heard booted footsteps moving away from our position down the hallway on the right. As we ran after the rogue soldier, I knew that if he slowed down even for a moment, we would be able to intercept him. Suddenly, there was a loud explosion and a moment later, Alma said, "Damn, I thought I had him. Wall got in the way of the car that I threw at him. I have attracted some abominations to aid you and your team. They should be able to slow him down enough for you to catch up to him. Michael is at the school where we first met and he discovered…well, rediscovered the secret facility beneath the school. He just killed Colonel Vanek. This is my chance to corner him."

I replied, "Copy that mother. Go after Michael. We will handle Foxtrot."

She said, "Okay, good luck."

As we passed by a reception desk, I noticed a television monitor on the floor. After we jumped down through a hole, we found ourselves in a parking garage. I heard the sound of gunfire and as we proceeded out of the room, I noticed the taxicab and the damage to the wall where Alma had thrown the vehicle at Foxtrot 813. As we moved towards the end of the parking lot, I heard the sound of music. It was not until we arrived at the 4-door Sedan that I realized that the music was coming from the still running vehicle.

The music was loud and I caught the name "Snake Fist" but other than that, I ignored the noise. I was never fond of music. Illuminated in the headlights of the vehicle was a pile of ATC mercenary bodies that were grouped around the corner of the wall. Abomination scribbles were written in blood on the ground and walls. I saw the phrases, "Help me I am in Hell", and "Can he see?". I was intrigued for a moment as I wondered if the abomination or abominations that wrote those statements were simply referring to themselves or if Alma's influence had caused them to write some of her thoughts about Michael.

My train of thought was cut short when Alpha 2 said, "Sir, over here."

I looked away from the bloody writing to see Alpha 2 down at the other end of the space where a car blocked the security gates. He was motioning towards the chain-linked fence and when I reached him, I noticed that the gate was open. As I led the way through the gate, I saw that the manhole cover had been removed from the manhole. I climbed down the rusted ladder until I realized that I had to jump the rest of the way. When I landed, I looked around and saw that we were in part of the sewer system once again.

The tunnel directly in front of us was blocked but the one to our right was open and strangely, a work light illuminated the tunnel entrance. I started to wonder if Fettel was aiding Foxtrot as Alma was aiding me. Though I saw Alma as a mother, I found this whole business distasteful. I felt more like a chess piece in a game being played by Alma and Fettel than someone that she cared about.

As I moved down the tunnel towards the sound of gunfire and abomination snarling, I reminded myself, 'Expendable asset. All you are. Expendable asset'.

As we passed what appeared to be access tunnels to other parts of the sewer that Foxtrot had closed off to repel the abominations, Alma said with a sad tone, "Please don't think such a horrible thing. You are not an expendable asset. I know that this situation looks bad, but it is not one that I had intended to put you in. My second son use to be so respectful of me. Now, he won't even talk to me other than to mock me or say hurtful things. He thinks that I purposely allowed my first son to kill him…that I betrayed him. I was using him yes…I am not sorry about that…but I never betrayed him."

I saw an ammunition box and turned right as I continued to follow the path that the rogue soldier had likely taken. We passed the closed tunnels and service equipment as we pressed on. Suddenly, we heard the unmistakable sound of a remnant's death bellow and sprinted towards the noise. We came to a large reservoir and I saw the tail end of Foxtrot's boots as he ran down the tunnel at the end.

After we jumped down, we moved down to the end where the tunnel led to another section of the sewer. Alma continued by asking, "You think that I am a cruel person don't you? A mother who pits her two sons against each other and then betrays the one that has been helping her all along. You must think of me as some evil, demented woman who blindly kills whomever she pleases." We entered the tunnel and passed the corpse of an abomination.

I replied, "I think that you are just someone has been dealt a bad hand. Mother, I know that you are not good-natured and are more likely to liquefy the flesh off someone than talk to them, but I also know that you are not truly evil either. You have enough good left in you to love those close to you and not hurt them intentionally. Granted, it more of an obsession than a healthy attachment, but I still don't think that you are truly evil."

She replied, "I do care about those I love. I do. Death...was very enlightening. I...can see...so many things...and know...so many things...it's like...I am a goddess now..."

I heard another explosion and, moments later, Alma remarked, "I missed again? How do I miss twice?"

At the sound of gunfire, we rushed towards the end of the tunnel. I had just exited the tunnel when I saw Foxtrot exit the large, circular room with a central large pipe looking structure as its nucleus. He ran out of my field of view just before I could get a shot off. Just as he passed through the square opening, the large metal gate closed and cut us off from the rogue Replica soldier.

As I carefully navigated past the section of walkway that had been nearly demolished by the car that was now a fiery wreck at the bottom of the shaft, I asked her, "What are you doing? You just cut us off from Foxtrot."

I did not receive a response and instead, I heard the power cut off. Soon afterwards, we had arrived at the large, square, metal gate. On the other side, I heard the sound of Alma whispering and then the sound of gunfire. For a second, rage filled me because I thought that the rogue soldier had been shooting at Alma. However, seconds later, I heard the sound of a third shooter and realized that Foxtrot was defending himself against the two other sources of gunfire. I was confused to say the least. Moments later, there was silence. Then, a single pair of booted footsteps continued moving away from us.

The gate remained closed and the footsteps faded until I could no longer hear them. Alma said, "Why won't he die? He should be dead."

I raised my left hand up to the side of the gate and balled it into a fist. After pounding against the heavy metal gate once, I lowered my hand as I said, "We're not getting through that in time. Come on, let's backtrack and find another way."

As we moved back into the reservoir, my com link activated and I saw the image of a Replica Heavy Trooper from Command as he ordered me, "Alpha 1, respond."

I motioned for my squad to halt as I replied, "Alpha 1, reporting in."

Command advised me, "Alpha 1, Command has received reports from our scouts that indicate that a large amount of Armacham reinforcements have moved into the Fairport area. For now, they seem to be setting up a base of operations in the docks. We are reassigning troop positions in preparation for the new wave of offensive movements by Armacham. In the meantime, be on your guard against possible scouts."

I replied, "Copy that, Command."

I informed my men, "We've got company: Armacham reinforcements. For now, their base of operations is the docks, but we should be on our guard against scouts."

They nodded in response. I motioned for us to continue and we moved back through the sewer system. When we reached the ladder that led up to the garage, I placed my shotgun on my back and hunched down as I formed my hands in a cup. One-by-one, I lifted my squad up so they could reach the ladder. When it was my turn, I jumped up and Alpha 5 caught me. He lifted me up enough to grab ahold of the ladder.

After reaching the garage, I retrieved my shotgun and took point as we moved back towards the collapsed office building. If we could reach the outside of the building, we could contact Yankee 2 to give us a ride.

As I passed the still running sedan, I noticed that the music had been replaced by what sounded like a man saying, "_Attention Fairport, we are Armacham Security Forces. We are working with National Guard units to provide relief to the citizens of Fairport. We are here to take you to safety. Do not be afraid to approach us. We offer food, clothing, medical services, and safety. Repeat, we are here to take you to safety. Do not be afraid to approach us. We offer food, clothing, medical services, and safety. Delta Force Operatives and F.E.A.R. Operatives will receive fair treatment._"

Alpha 2 commented, "I don't think that their offer is sincere."

I replied, "Agreed. They're going to silence anyone that is still sane enough to give contradictory statements about what happened here."

We continued towards the office building and, after climbing back up through the hole, we reentered the crumbling structure. Everything was going smoothly until about where the turn at the desk was. As I led the way, the floor gave weigh and I plummeted several stories down through darkness.

I landed on my posterior on a slightly sloped collection of compressed building debris. The landing stirred up a huge cloud of dust and forced a grunt to escape me as the impact jarred my body. Slightly disoriented, I starred up through the thin dusty ray of light for a moment. As I lay there, a forced thought went through my mind. '_Analysis: Soft tissue damage and hairline fractures on the coccyx_.'

My com link activated and Alpha 2's image appeared in my HUD as he asked, "Sir, do you copy?"

I replied, "Affirmative, Alpha 2. Continue your ascent. I will find an alternate path."

He replied, "Roger that, sir."

His image left my HUD. Groaning, I forced myself onto my feet. I raised my left hand up and activated the L.E.D. flashlight on my shotgun. The thin, powerful beam flickered to life and I returned my left hand to my shotgun's pump. The flashlight revealed an almost cave-like space that was filled with compressed piles of building debris. The weight of the office building above must have been slowly crushing a small service tunnel that it had landed on top of when it collapsed. I knew that I had to find a way out quickly or this dusty space would become my tomb.

I made my way to the opposite end of the tunnel and found a steel grey door that had a broken sign above it that said, "Exit to main concourse". I attempted to open it but found that it was locked. Undeterred, I simply took a step back before I rushed forward and kicked in the door. As the door fell backwards, I heard a man yell, "What the Hell?"

When the dust cloud had dissipated, I saw ten ATC mercenaries in a forward command post that appeared to be in the main concourse of a subway system. Two ticket booths were at the far end of the room with a pair of turnstiles between them. At the center of the space was a large, communication device similar to the ones that my fellow Replicas used except it was black or dark blue and had the Armacham symbol on it. On either side of the device, there were vertical columns of bus-station style benches that were three benches long.

Five of the mercenaries were grouped around the device. Two of them had been smoking by the bench that was closest to me except now they were reaching for their submachine guns. Two had been carrying crates of supplies that were now broken at their feet from where they had dropped them. The last one was off in the far right corner and had likely been taking a piss because he was now clumsily fumbling with the zipper on his pants while simultaneously trying to retrieve his submachine gun.

I blasted the first two by the bench with my shotgun before they could raise their weapons. Their bodies fell backwards as their submachine guns clattered to the tiled floor as they tumbled through the air. Rushing forward, I opened fire on the two that had been carrying the crates. I shot the first one twice before he gave off a death rattle and collapsed onto the floor. I snapped my aim to the second and closed the distance. I got close enough for his body to liquefy when I blasted him with a single round of buckshot. Running through the bloody cloud of flesh, bone, and body fluid, I charged at the men around the communication device.

They had their weapons raised and unleashed a combined volley of lead. My armor absorbed most of the rounds but a few stray blunt nosed rounds penetrated my protective shell and ripped into the soft flesh underneath. Fighting through the pain, I fired a round into the first one that peppered his lightly armored head. He slumped to the ground as his weapon clattered onto the floor nearby.

I snapped my aim to the next one and dropped him with a single round. I snapped to the next one and dropped him with a single round too. As his body fell backwards onto the device, I switched to my Seegert ACM46 handgun. Targeting the fourth man, I fired five rounds into him in center mass before he gave off a death rattle and collapsed onto the floor.

As I turned my attention to the last mercenary, who had finally managed to zip up his pants and retrieve his submachine gun, I heard him say, "He wiped out the whole forward command post. I need reinforcements."

I aimed my sidearm and dropped him with a single shot to the head. I switched back to my shotgun and started to reload it. As I finished, I heard a strange, robotic sounding voice come from the device.

It said, "Attention Forward Command Post Oscar, Phase Commander is deployed and will be arriving shortly."

Confused, I wondered, 'What the fuck is a Phase Commander?'

By that time, I had reloaded my shotgun and started to head for the exit beyond the ticket booths. However, as I approached the turnstiles, I saw a very tall, cyborg-looking man with shiny armor and wielding what looked like a modified Hammerhead or something similar to it descending the steps that led to the surface. Not wasting time, I switched to my missile launcher and fired a round.

The warhead hit home but, to my amazement, the Phase Commander seemed unfazed by the damage. He raised his weapon and began firing. Before I could react in time, the spike-like rounds penetrated into my missile launcher and effectively neutralized the launcher. Tossing it aside, I retrieved my shotgun and charged at the large brute while firing round after round from my primary firearm.

My buckshot only seemed to be inflicting minor damage to the armored cyborg even as I closed the range. Meanwhile, his rounds had little difficulty in penetrating my armor and inflicting massive amounts of damage to my body. By the time that I had closed in on the brute enough to use my CQB training, my health was almost gone and I was seeing a red tint in my vision.

My shotgun clicked as it ran out of ammunition and before I could dodge him, the Phase Commander kicked me square in my chest. I let out a loud, deep grunt as I fell backwards onto my back. My health bar was all but empty and it was a miracle that the kick had not killed me. I realized that I was about to die. Refusing to die without a fight, I drew my sidearm from its holster and raised it up to aim at the commander. However, the brute kicked it away before bringing his foot down on top of my head. I did not feel the impact. Instead, my vision failed and my mind was left in an abyss of confusion and desensitization.


	6. Chapter 6: Where am I?

Ch. 6: Where am I?

A.N.:

Hey everyone who reads this story.

I know that this story is not as interesting as my main story, but I like my Alpha 1 character too much to let him be a secondary character.

In terms of my main story, this chapter is approximately around where Becket is trapped inside the amplifier with Alma.

The Bad Blood Replicas are the ones seen in F.3.A.R. When I played the game, I honestly didn't realize that they were Replicas. So, I now have to explain why they do not exist in my main story. Thank you, F.3.A.R. for making me tie up a loose end that honestly made no sense to begin with.

Replicas need a psychic commander to even be active. Otherwise, they go into a dormant state. So either I completely missed a character in F.3.A.R. or there was some unnamed psychic working for ATC that was controlling them.

Again, I hate F.3.A.R. If you are going to rape a plot line established by two previous games, at least make it make sense.

I digress...:P I've always wanted to write that in an argument.

Anyway,

I hope this story is interesting enough to at least be entertaining for those who read it.

Read and review if you want.

* * *

><p>"Ma'am, we have a lock on his location."<p>

"Alpha 1, this is Command. Respond."

"Alpha 1, come on, wake up please. Michael and I need you. Please, come back to us."

I groaned softly as I forced my eyes open. I was greeted by the sight of a pile of dead bodies, some civilian, some American military, and some Replica. My mind was painfully disorientated for a moment as I tried to remember what had transpired to lead to my current predicament. After a moment, I was finally able to remember the Phase Commander and my defeat at his hands.

Rallying my senses, I took in my surroundings. My HUD reported that my armor was depleted and my health was down to the red quarter bar. For some odd reason, I was able to regenerate my health. It was a secret that I kept to myself since none of the other Replicas seemed to be able to do it as well. That must have been the reason why I was still alive. They had thought that I was dead. Yet again, Armacham had proved how undisciplined their forces were.

I was in the middle of a metal-box like container that was filled with hundreds of bloodied corpses. The nauseating smell of iron mixed with pungent decay was heavy in the air. My whole body felt weak and heavy as I tried to stand. I cursed my misfortune of having been placed on top of two overweight men. Their sun-baked bodies had soured and turned into liquid filled sacks of flesh. It was like trying to stand on quicksand.

Realizing what I had to do, I began to crawl up the side of the corpse-generated hill. I slipped a few times and had to start over but after what seemed like an hour, I finally managed to reach a plateau about halfway up the embankment. I tried to stand, but as soon as my right boot made contact with the body of a Hispanic man dressed in a dirtied, bloodied white shirt, its ribcage gave way. I suppressed the cry of disgust as I felt my boot penetrated the torso of the corpse. A cloud of flies began to buzz around me as I pulled my foot free from the torso.

With the flies' buzzing in my ears, I continued to crawl up the embankment. Against all odds, I finally reached the lip of the rusted sea green metal container and pulled myself up and over the top of it. I was met with the sight of a decayed brick and mortar complex that resembled a late 19th or early 20th century mental hospital. My current location appeared to be in the courtyard of the massive building that towered five stories into the air. The courtyard was about the size of a tennis court, and the massive steel container that I had been in was buried into the ground at the center of the courtyard like a kind of macabre well. I could hear the sound of voices, mostly in Spanish, piping over the loudspeaker.

Landing on my feet, I stood and slowly crept towards the darkness of the left corner of the courtyard, which was provided by an overhanging tree that had grown out of the nearby wall. When I reached it, I crouched down. Speaking into my com link, I said, "Command, this is Alpha 1. Requesting instructions, over."

The image of a Replica Heavy Trooper entered my HUD. With a slightly softened voice, Replica Command replied, "Alpha 1, Command has a lock on your location. You are somewhere in South America. Our leader requests your presence in Fairport. Therefore, your primary mission objective is to find a way to return to Fairport. Our forces are all engaged with the new wave of ATC Mercenaries so you will have to improvise an escape route. Satellite recon indicates a large presence of enemy forces in your area but interference is preventing an accurate report on the exact size and nature of their forces. Caution and stealth are recommended. However, given your circumstances, we have agreed to authorize you to use any means necessary in order to escape. Secondary objectives are to observe the local ATC Forces and report their movements. In addition, you are to disrupt their forces as much as possible without jeopardizing your primary objective. You have your orders Alpha 1, do you copy?"

I responded, "Copy all, Command."

Command said, "Good luck, Alpha 1. Command out."

My com link deactivated and I was left to my thoughts. The gravity of my situation was staggering. I was cut off from friendly forces hundreds of miles from home. I had no weapons or supplies. Somehow, without any special abilities, I had to face a numerically superior enemy and escape from a foreign country that I did not even know existed until now. Had I been fighting for myself, I would have crumbled at the thought of facing such imposing odds. However, as the memories of Alma and Michael flashed before my mind's eye, I knew that, somehow, I would find a way.

The sound of approaching voices riled me out of my thoughts. I retreated as far into the shadows as I could and then waited for the opportune moment to ambush the approaching men. Within a minute, two ATC grunts carrying an unknown man wearing civilian clothing between them entered the courtyard. With their backs to me, they walked over to the metal container. One of them commented, "Agh…fucking disgusting man!"

The other replied, "They don't pay us to complain so just shut up and let's dump this local already. I want to get back to the game. Dave is into it with me for 3-large and I don't want that weasel skipping off onto patrol to duck me."

The first one asked, "3-large? You aren't playing with a dirty deck are you?"

The other replied, "What do you take me for? Aristide? No, Dave just doesn't know when to quit."

They had reached the edge of the metal container and they threw the body into the pit. They leaned over the side for a moment. Seizing my chance, I rushed forward. Unaware of my presence, the first one said, "Used to protect the president…now I am a janitor."

The other replied, "With a big fat paycheck though. Just be glad we aren't in Fairport…nothing ever happens he…huh?"

He turned just in time to see my left fist flying towards his face before it caught him inches below his right eye. A sick crunch filled the air as my momentum and mass were more than enough to crush in his skull. His body flew down into the pit as a trail of blood oozed out of his nose. I snapped to face his ally. The ATC grunt retreated away as he tried to draw his sidearm. As he fumbled with the strap holding his Seegert ACM46 Pistol into its holster, I rushed forward and tackled the man to the ground.

As I pinned him to the ground, I clamped my fists around his trachea to prevent him from alerting any nearby mercenaries. Tightening my grip, I broke his neck. Releasing my grip, I reached over and took his sidearm as well as the spare clips that he had for it. I nearly laughed when I saw that the 9mm Special did not even have a clip in it. After feeding a fresh clip into the slot that served the dual purpose of being the weapon's grip, I cocked the Seegert.

I suddenly heard the sound of faint whispering behind me. I smiled slightly beneath my face as I recognized the feeling in my head. I stood as his limps continued to twitch sporadically and then turned around to face the entity. Alma stood inches away from me in her child form. My smile was instantly replaced by a look of worry as I saw the scared and broken look in her eyes. I asked her, "What is it? What happened?"

She lowered her head so that her hair formed a kind of security shroud as if she was ashamed of something that she had done. My instincts beat her to the revelation and, torn between two loyalties, I could only think to ask, "Why?"

She began to shake as I heard the faint sound of sobbing. She finally managed to answer, "Didn't mean to hurt. Mean people made him so I couldn't get him out of my head. There's something else."

Barely managing to remain calm, I asked with a forced flat tone, "What?"

A flash come over her body and she morphed into her adult form. This was not the adult form that I had seen before. This one was healthy and attractive. However, my eyes were immediately drawn to the bump of her abdomen. Losing control, I cried out as I rushed forward and grabbed her around her neck. Continuing my charge, I threw her against the far wall and held her there with my left hand firmly wrapped around her neck and the muzzle of my Seegert pressed roughly into her forehead.

She did not attempt to resist me as I held her there. I growled, "I trusted you not to hurt him!"

She gazed at me with a blank look of sorrow for a moment before she slowly raised her right hand up to caress the side of my mask. I flinched and released my grip on her neck as I batted her hand away. Keeping my sidearm aimed at her, I slowly backed away from her. She changed back into her child form and sank back against the wall. She raised her hands up to her face and began to sob quietly.

I glanced around and failed to detect any approaching danger. Holstering my sidearm, I approached the distressed psychic. She asked me between sobs, "What do I do now?"

I sighed before I said, "I don't know. Deep down, he might love you enough to get past what you have done. Perhaps not. All you can do now is let him sort it out for himself."

She looked back up at me for a moment before she said, "I want you both back."

I sighed before I remarked, "Go to him. I will find my way back to Fairport. We will work things out from there, okay Mother?"

She nodded and then stood slowly. As I watched, she dissolved into a cloud of ash. I turned to look back at the ATC grunt's corpse and as I walked towards it with my sidearm raised, I heard her say in my mind, "I'm waiting for you. Mother still loves you." I did not reply and continued to move towards the dead mercenary. When I reached him, I noticed the medical injector that had seemingly appeared out of thin air. Using my left hand, I injected the red liquid into my body. Almost instantly, my health bar left the red and increased up to the halfway mark.

I bent down and grasped the body by its black or dark blue Kevlar vest with my left hand. I stood and then threw the body down into the pit. As I turned to leave the courtyard, I heard a man call out, "Hey screws, you done over there yet? All you were supposed to do was dump a fucking body, it's not that complicated."

With my Seegert at the ready, I exited the courtyard. The hallway beyond snaked around the courtyard. Open windowless viewing holes ran along the middle of the right wall to allow an observer to look into the courtyard itself. I continued along the path until I came to a wooden door. As I reached it, the faded oak door opened as the same man said, "Guys seriously? What the fuck is taking so long…" He recoiled as he saw me. Reaching for his Andra FD-99 submachine gun, he called out, "Whoa! What the fuck?!"

I aimed my Seegert and discharged a round into his head. The lightly armored man dropped to the floor. I holstered my sidearm and picked up the submachine gun. Continuing down the hallway, I passed several vacant cells that had rusted carcasses of the beds that had once been in them within their walls. The once sterile floor was dirty and had miscellaneous discarded items dotting its surface at seemingly random points. I came to another door and beyond it, I heard a man say, "Eat it boys…four of a kind…kings."

Another man said, "Bullshit…"

The man replied, "Count 'em."

The other man said, "Motherfucker...Frank someday your luck is going to run out."

I smirked beneath my face as I charged through the door. The old wooden barrier splintered under my assault and showered the men sitting around a round antiquated poker table. As they tried to react, I aimed down my sights. Snapping between targets, I dropped all five men sitting around the table with headshots. As their bodies slumped either back in their chairs or onto the table's surface, I walked over to the side of the table. I noticed five unknown cards lying on the table. Reaching down with my left hand, I turned them over. I smirked again as I saw their identities: an ace, a king, a queen, a jack, and a ten of the same suit.

I looked at the dead mercenaries and said, "Royal Flush…aces high. I win Frank."

The door at the other end of the room opened and I snapped to see four men in ATC mercenary attire enter the room with their weapons drawn. I dove behind the cover of a nearby empty door frame that was all that was left of a wall that had once existed there. As the men opened fire on my position, I calmly waited for my moment to strike as the rounds showered me with splinters as they blasted through the aged wooden doorframe.

As they went to reload, I looked around the edge of the frame and took aim at the first one that was advancing across the room towards me. Exploding out of cover, I unleashed a volley of submachine gun rounds that peppered the advancing mercenary. As his body was shredded with rounds, blood ejected from his torso. He fell backwards onto the floor. I jumped over his dying form and continued my advance on the remaining three men. Two were taking cover behind a moth eaten couch at the far end of the room by the door and the other, dressed in slightly heavier armor, was advancing towards me on my right with a pump action Series-3 Combat Shotgun.

Using the remaining ammunition in my submachine gun, I liquefied the shotgun wielding man's head. As his body fell forward, I threw the empty Andra FD-99 aside and grabbed the shotgun in mid-air. Not exactly my favorite shotgun, but I was still overjoyed at being reunited with a scattergun. My body was racked by a barrage of submachine gun rounds from the two men at the far end of the room. Even with my armor bar depleted, the rounds ricocheted off my heavy, prototype armor. Charging forward, I closed the range until I was no more than a foot away. Then, as one of them stood to retreat, I hip fired a round into his chest.

The buckshot tore into the lightly armored chest of the grunt and, as a geyser of blood ejected out of his torso, his body fell backwards against the brick wall. As the other man stood, I blasted him as well. By that time, I was so close that the shot obliterated the man's body and only his lower body and a large amount of blood coating the wall behind him was left of him. I noticed that there appeared to be a kind of communication center set up in the left corner of the room.

Deciding to investigate, I walked over to it while keeping an eye on the door. Upon inspection, I discovered that the devices were not communication-based but rather were security terminals. I saw various security camera views that showed large numbers of Armacham personnel and they appeared to have been alerted to my presence in the building because they were organizing their formations. Sitting between the terminals, I saw a laptop with a blue screen on it. Using my left hand, I access the files and then sent them to Replica Command.

Moments later, the image of a Replica Heavy Trooper entered my HUD. Command informed me, "Alpha 1, we have received the data. Standby." I waited for a moment and then Command continued, "Alpha 1, the data that you have sent has been very enlightening. It appears that the region that you are in is not an outpost. Instead, it appears that the region is of great value to Armacham. Judging by these reports, we have theorized that there is a major communication hub somewhere in your vicinity. Unfortunately, Armacham's fortifications are too extensive for a one-man assault or otherwise we would authorize a demolition mission against it. Alpha 1, we regret to inform you that you facing ten battalions of ATC's Mercenary Forces."

Shocked at the odds that were stacked against me, I mentally cursed in irritation. Command said, "However, there appears to be an extensive transportation network between your region and Fairport. We have uploaded the coordinates for the nearest supply facility to your Data Net. First, however, we wish for you to investigate something troubling. According to the data that you sent, there appears to be a nearby underground facility that is developing a new generation of Replica Soldiers…referred to as Armacham Replica Troopers."

Enraged, I replied, "WHAT?!"

Command continued with a calmer voice than my own, "We understand and share your anger Alpha 1. These abominations MUST NOT be allowed to taint our forces. Your orders are to infiltrate the facility and destroy it and everything inside of it. These abominations have been labeled as Bad Blood and are to be terminated with _extreme prejudice_. They have brought mockery and disgrace to our forces. They will DIE as such. KILL THEM! KILL ALL OF THEM! Restore the purity of our forces Alpha 1! This mission is of the highest priority."

I replied, "Roger that, Command. As long as I breathe, they will not."

Command said, "You have your orders, Alpha 1. Command out."

The image of the Replica Heavy Trooper left my HUD. I was still shaking from the anger that I felt for the revelation of the new generation of Replicas. These Armacham Replica Troopers were a disgrace to our forces. For the past two generations we had fought for our freedom from Armacham. Now, these _abominations_ were jeopardizing the heroic sacrifices and spilled blood of the strongest of Replica Troopers. We had sacrificed so much and now these Bad Blood were threatening to undo all of it! No! Not while I had something to say about it! We would remain pure!

After replenishing my armor with an armor repair kit, I took the two medkits in the security center and used one to replenish my health. Noticing the box of ammunition, I gathered all the shotgun shells from inside the heavy steel locker. With full armor and health bars, a medkit, and all the shotgun ammunition that I could find, I exited the room.


	7. Chapter 7: Alpha and Omega

Ch. 7: Alpha and Omega

A.N.:

Happy (late) Memorial Day everyone!

That's right, it's another chapter for Alpha 1.

Look, this story and The Broken Soldier are here to stay. So stop asking me to take them down certain people who know who they are. When I update my main story, I am going to say the same thing again just so you all get the message. Unless the site takes them down, they are here to stay!

Jerks...

Anyway,

Sorry to everyone else. I am not talking to you. I hope that everyone is enjoying this story and the main one :)

In this chapter, we finally meet Alpha 1's brother: Omega 1 (get it? :P)

You know the drill, I love feedback :)

Read and review if you want.

* * *

><p>As I left the room, I came to another long hallway that was lined with cells on both sides. For a mental hospital, this place sure felt like a prison. What could possess a human being to treat another like this? According to the orange numbers running along the top of my HUD on either side of the Replica symbol, the cells were small, only half a meter in width. With my shotgun pressed tightly against my shoulder, I cautiously proceeded down the hallway.<p>

The air began to turn foul as if Armacham was using this building from more than just body disposal. As I reached the fifth row of cells, movement inside the one to my right caught my attention. Snapping my aim of my shotgun's muzzle, I swiftly turned to face the cell's interior. Confusion filled me as I failed to detect anything living inside the cell's cramped interior. With measured footsteps, I entered the cell to investigate.

From the left wall out to about a half of the usable space, the cell was dominated by a rusted cot skeleton that had traces of the poor quality mattress that had once been on top of it still resting atop the rusted support bars. Up against the far wall was a kind of desk for the cell's occupant. Water-ruined pieces of paper with illegible writing on them covered the desktop. Turning to my right, I found a simple toilet that, to my disgust, was covered with some brown substance that I did not allow my imagination to paint a nauseating picture of what it had been before it had hardened into a kind of clay.

I finished my scan of the cell but failed to detect any signs of life. Mentally scratching my head, I turned back towards the entrance. Upon seeing the shadowy figure in the doorway, I fired a round from my Series-3 shotgun. The buckshot peppered the brick wall opposite the figure but the man-shaped shadow continued to stand in the doorway for a moment before turning and, to my astonishment, shot away to the right at seemingly impossible speed. Rushing out of the room, I turned to the right to face the figure.

Instead, I found a whole group of them waiting for me. At least thirty of them were converging together at the far end of the hallway. They were of mixed genders and ages. However, the threatening postures that they held informed me that they had malicious intentions. They were giving off disorientating whispering sounds as if they were all having conversations at the same time. The door behind me that led to the communication room slammed shut loudly and they began to float towards me. As they floated towards me, the overhead florescent light bulbs shattered in their housings, leaving me in darkness.

Only the flashlight mounted to the side of the barrel of my shotgun illuminated the darkness. Under the cover of darkness, they began to circle me as they continued to whisper in their disorientating manner. They swirled around me so fast that I was unable to get a bead on a single individual. Refusing to let fear fill my mind, I steeled my mind and prepared for their assault.

I felt the first jab of pain as one of them struck me. The flashlight in my shotgun flickered and then, seconds later, gave out completely. As my HUD lit up in response to the assault, I began to hip fire blindly into the darkness. Into my com link, I said, "Command, I am under attack by unknown assailants." However, something was interfering with my coms because I received an error message in my HUD that indicated that my message had failed to reach Command.

Again and again, they struck my body and exploded on impact. My vision began to turn red as their attacks took their toll. Fighting to remain calm, I fired my shotgun but, being unable to get a bead on a single target, most of my buckshot harmlessly peppered the brick walls beyond my assailants. Just as my health bar threatened to empty, a flash came over my vision. When it dissipated, I found, to my immense confusion, that I was alone in the brightly lit hallway. The walls were torn apart by my buckshot but my armor and health were at maximum and there was no sign of the mysterious black shadow figures that had been about to kill me seconds prior.

Turning my body to look in both directions several times, I asked aloud to no one in particular, "What?" I continued to look around for a moment before convincing myself that it had all been in my mind. I turned back to look in the direction that I needed to go and was met by the sight of the red dressed child form of my Commander. She gazed silently at me as she stood before me.

Finally, she said, "You different from rest."

Her tone struck me. She sounded like she had before our minds had relinked back in the Harbinger Facility. What she had done to Michael seemed to have genuinely affected her. The assertive, adult personality that had directed me during my chase after Foxtrot 813 seemed to have been replaced by her fragile child personality. Unfortunately, the only individual that would be able to help her was currently buried beneath the hatred of a violated soldier somewhere in Fairport. Being a Replica, I was not able to offer much therapy-type support. For my kind, trauma was not usually a problem because we were programmed to not dwell on past events.

I knelled before her and then said, "Forgive me for snapping Mother."

Her right hand cupped the bottom of my armored chin before gently raising my head up to look her in the eyes. She smiled slightly before she said, "You good boy. Of course Mother forgive you." She guided me to stand before her. As I towered over her, she continued to gaze at me with her emotionless façade. After a moment, she continued, "You different than brothers. You see without help. I feel you like sons and Michael. You strong. Stronger than you know. Make bad people feel your strength. They should fear you. Make them, my beautiful son."

As if in a trance, I replied with a flat tone, "Yes Mother." With a sinister smile on her pale lips, she presented a Vollmer Ultra92 Automatic Shotgun to me. I smirked beneath my armored face. After putting the Series-3 into my inventory, I gently took the Vollmer from my Commander's grasp. As I did, she dissolved into a cloud of ash as she gave off a giggle.

After dropping the magazine, I saw that I had a full clip. I placed it back into its slot and then slid the pump forward with my left hand. Sure, the Series-3 was bored for more powerful 10-gauge rounds, but the 12-gauge Vollmer just felt right in my hands. Moving down the hallway once more, I approached the door at the end. As I neared it, I heard two men conversing.

One asked, "So, what is so important about this clone freak anyway?"

The other replied, "What do you mean?"

The first explained, "Well, the higher ups have given us the order that _it_ is to be taken alive if at all possible. _It_ is just a goddamn clone. We didn't even know that _it _was alive when _it _came in on one of the clean-up body piles from up north. I even heard that the Phase Commander that killed _it _was punished by being transferred to this sector. That means less pay because we are nowhere near Fairport. I mean, we kill these freaks, end of story. That is what they told us when they hired us. Now, they have us trying to take this one in particular alive now that they know that _it _is still alive. So, what is so fucking important about this freak?"

The second grunt said, "Well, you didn't hear it from me but..."

The first Armacham soldier egged him on, "Your secret is safe with me, man. What did you hear?"

The second ATC grunt said, "Okay, so I was working on the cell mechanism in D Block right?"

The first replied, "Yeah."

The second continued, "So there I was, the Phase Commander and some official looking guy walked past me. I overheard the Phase Commander demanding to know why he had been demoted. The official guy told him that the Replica Heavy Trooper was a **Highly Valued Experiment**. The Phase Commander asked how valued and why he had not been informed. The official said that the Trooper's file was confidential and only the highest-level security clearance could access the file."

The first grunt said, "Holy shit, that means..."

"Project Origin and Harbinger." The second grunt finished.

The first soldier continued, "Fuck, who is this guy?"

Armacham Command interrupted their conversation, "Yankee-Tango 12 and 13, this conversation is well above your pay grade. Continue and you will be subject to immediate summary dismissal."

I smirked beneath my face. I would assist Armacham with that. Rushing forward, I bulldozed through the flimsy double metal doors. Sending the metal doors flying through the air, I burst into the room. While my vision was reduced by the dust that had been kicked up, my HUD's targeting system picked up on the Armacham grunts and highlighted their figures with an orange silhouette.

I was in a large holding block with multiple cells arranged one after another along the walls of the lower and the upper deck. To my right, there was a gated entrance to the flight of stairs that led up to the upper floor. To my left was the beginning of the row of cells for this floor. According to my HUD's targeting system, there were ten ATC grunts in the room. Four were directly before me with one faced towards the third cell down from my current location, possibly taunting the occupant before my arrival, the two that had been talking were leaning up against the chain-link fence of the gated entrance to the flight of stairs, and the fourth one was standing between them but with his back to me.

For the alarm having been raised, they were rather disorganized. Rushing forward with my Vollmer raised, I blasted the grunt with his back to me. The tight spread of my Vollmer all but liquefied the man's skull. Instead, he fell to his knees as he tried to recover. Snapping my aim to the two men against the fence, I blasted the closest one in the waist. The shot blew his body in half, sending the upper half into the shocked, outstretched arms of his ally while his legs began to walk towards me for a moment before collapsing onto the ground. Snapping my aim to the grunt that had been facing the holding cell, I blasted him in the face. His skull liquefied and his body spastically fired the submachine gun that was in his grasp for a moment before collapsing onto the dirty floor.

By then, the dust had settled and I no longer required my HUD's targeting system to see my enemies. The other ATC grunts were scrambling to react to my sudden appearance. Meanwhile, I turned back to the first soldier that I had shot. He had managed to stand on shaky legs. Rushing forward, I bashed him across his face with the butt of the stock of my Vollmer. His head snapped back from the force of the impact and blood flew out of his nostrils as the sound of cracking bone filled the air. He gave off a death rattle before he even hit the floor.

Bullets began to ricochet off my prototype armor. Quickly turning in the direction of the incoming rounds, I saw that three ATC mercenaries had jumped down from the upper level and were taking cover behind various wooden shipment crates while they were unloading their Andra FD-99 Submachine guns into my armored frame. The lightweight pistol rounds were unable to penetrate the outer ballistic layer of my armor and I charged towards them.

As I did, I heard one of them say into his communication gear, "Command, target is in C Block. Requesting back-up."

I had reached them by that time. As they stood and continued to fire at me as they attempted to retreat, I blasted the first one in his head. Again, the skull was liquefied. His body slumped and, as his body continued to fire the submachine gun, twisted to face his former allies. The rounds tore into the closest one and seconds later, both bodies dropped to the ground. The last one tried to reload his weapon but I rushed forward and bashed him in the center of his face with the butt of the stock of my Vollmer. The force of the impact snapped his neck and, with his head pointed upwards at an unnatural angle, his body fell backwards onto the floor.

From above me, I heard one of the ATC soldiers say, "Command, he has wiped out most of the squad. Orders?"

The response was, "Fall back and secure D Block. Phase Commander is en route."

The soldier replied, "Roger that. You heard Command, let's get the fuck out of here!"

I heard them running away, their heavy boots clanging against the metal framework of the upper floor as they ran. I ran over to the gate that led up to upper floor to give chase. However, as I passed the cell that the one ATC mercenary had been taunting the occupant, I halted as I was struck by a plastic cup that had been thrown out of the small opening at the top of the cell door. I looked at the cell door and was shocked to see a Replica Heavy Trooper looking back at me.

He asked, "A0001, that is you isn't it? You are the one that Armacham wants aren't you? The one that Replica Command calls Alpha 1?"

Stunned, I demanded, "Who are you? How do you know my serial number?"

He replied, "I'm your genetic brother: A0002. Heard about all that trouble that you caused our Armacham friends at the Perseus Compound all those years ago. Sorry, I was dormant or I would have helped."

I asked him, "What is your call sign?"

He replied, "Omega 1."

I nearly laughed at the notion that Replica Command had named us Alpha 1 and Omega 1. He seemed to have had the same thought because he said, "We will knock Command for that later, brother. First, listen, there are hundreds of prisoners in this facility. They are all pretty pissed at ATC for locking us up like rats. So, I say that we give our Armacham friends a little surprise. Find the controls for the cell-blocks and open the cells. While the natives take the bullets, you and I can find transport back to Fairport."

I replied, "We cannot go back to Fairport yet."

Omega 1 asked, "What? Why not?"

I explained, "ATC is creating a new generation of Replica soldiers called Armacham Replica Troopers."

The side of the cell door suddenly bowed out as I heard the side of his right fist impact the metal obstacle. Seconds later, he cried out angrily, "BLASPHEMY! FUCKING INBRED ABOMINATIONS! FUCKING ARMACHAM! Is there NOTHING that they WILL NOT DO to torment us?!"

His tone changed back to one filled with comradery when he addressed me, "Alright, brother, I am with you. Find a way to open the cells and we will escape this...place. Then, we will fucking destroy the test tube abominations. After that, we will finally go home."

I asked, "Why can't you just open the door yourself?"

He laughed in repeated grunts before he explained, "Because, dear brother, unlike you, the rest of us are bound by our programming to not be able to strike out without say so. My com link to Command is being jammed by our Armacham friends so I cannot bust my way through the door."

I said, "Understood. I will find a way to open the cell doors."

I turned away to look at the ATC soldier that was still holding the upper torso of his former ally. I almost pitied him as I saw him crying and talking to the deceased mercenary as he tried to put the two halves back together. Even as I walked towards him, he continued to try to mend his former squad mate while muttering to the dead man that he was going to be okay. It was not until I towered over him with the muzzle breach of my Vollmer pointed at his head that he looked up at me.

I demanded with a deep threatening voice, "Where do I find the controls for the cell doors?"

He dropped the upper part of the deceased mercenary and attempted to flee from me. However, he had no sooner stood and turned to run away before I grabbed the back of his tactical vest with my left hand. Lifting him off the ground, I ran towards the cell door next to my brother and threw the man face-first into the peeling metal door. As I continued to hold him against the cell door, I demanded again, "Where do I find the controls for the cell doors?"

This time, he answered, "Christ man, I don't want to die."

I replied, "Then tell me where to go to open the cell doors!"

He explained, "Main tower of the prison. There is a control room. That's all man, I swear to God..."

I said, "Swear to ME!" Then, I threw him into the metal cell door once more, this time causing a large splatter of blood to appear on the door's surface.

The man started crying again before he replied, "That's all there is to it, I swear! Come on man, I have a family. Please, I just want to see them again."

Pity overpowered my anger and I released him. As he turned and started running away, I called after him, "Then go to them and hide where no one will find you. We are going to gut Armacham from the inside out!"

He ran away down the hallway and, as I passed my brother in his cell, Omega 1 asked, "Why did you let him live?"

I replied, "I know what it is like to want to see one's family again. My family is why I am doing this. I do know indeed what it is like."

My brother was silent for a moment before he asked, "You mean _her _and Michael?"

I looked at him silently for a brief moment before I asked, "How do you know about them?"

He explained, "We all know about your status of being _her favorite_. Look, I will explain later, just get me the Hell out of this box!"

I nodded and then began to run towards the gate that led to the upper deck.


	8. Chapter 8: The Legend

Ch. 8: The Legend

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><p>As I ran up the stairs, I reflected on the sudden change in Armacham's tactics. Armacham seemed to be going out of their way to get me back. By my estimates, the asset expenditures of their pursuit of me had already exceeded my resale value. For Armacham, the world was black and white. Profit was king; not morality or compassion. Not only had they cast their own golden rule aside, they had also allowed their men to fall back.<p>

That was so uncharacteristic of Armacham, which was infamous for forcing their mercenaries to defend a position until the objective was met or until they were all dead, that I knew that they were up to something. Perhaps it was unwise of me to pursue the mercenaries that had retreated.

Deciding to locate the prison tower, I paused. I had turned right to go down the hallway that led to the next cellblock. They would be waiting for me and I was understandably hesitant to go up against a Phase Commander, especially when he had back up and was waiting for me. I searched the walls and finally managed to locate a ventilation duct. I shot open the rusted obstacle and then crouched down. I entered the duct.

The duct was just large enough to allow me to move if I was crouched. As I moved through the duct, I activated the air flow meter on my HUD. Being a Heavy Trooper, I had access to more programs in my HUD than a typical Replica Trooper. When the air flow meter appeared, I used it to navigate the winding passages of the ventilation system. The system drew in fresh air, typically, from higher levels of a structure. Assuming that I was correct, all I had to do was follow the ducts to a higher level of the prison. With any luck, I would come out near the tower.

The air inside the duct was foul even with my built-in filtration system. Occasionally, I passed dead animal carcasses and, unbelievably, inmate remains. As I squeezed past one, I could not imagine how desperate someone had to be to attempt to escape using the ventilation system. Even if they managed not to get lost in the disorientating tunnels, they would be trapped unless they brought tools or a blunt object because at the end of the ductwork there were the fans that moved the air through the network.

As I came to a cross section that had a non-functioning ventilation fan above it, my HUD suddenly started to distort and the sound of static filled my mind as it attempted to recalibrate. I noticed that on the floor in the center of the cross section, there appeared to be a dried human carcass. When I moved closer as I continued to follow the air meter, I observed that its arms were over its chest and clenched in the dried digits was a homemade cross that was made out of cheap soap.

'Must have been a local because, as I recall, Catholicism is strong in South America because of the Spanish missions.' I thought to myself as I briefly stopped beside the corpse to study it out of curiosity. I wondered if the individual had thought that the cross was going to grant him or her, as the body was degraded beyond the point of indications of their gender from external examination, access to the "Heaven" that I understood the Catholic religion promised to the "believers".

My shotgun's flashlight suddenly flickered. 'No...no...no.' I mentally pleaded. Despite my pleas, the flashlight gave out and left me in total darkness. I fought to remain calm as I felt like I was being surrounded by unknown entities. I heard the sound of scratching on the thin skin of the duct as if there were people crawling towards me from the different ventilation ducts. As they drew closer, I heard them whispering. I managed to catch the words, "Heretic" and "Non-believer".

It grew to the intensity that it sounded like there were hundreds of people surrounding me. Then, suddenly, it all stopped. I could only hear my own heavy breathing for a moment. I started to relax. Suddenly, inches from my face, the dried corpse appeared flailing its arms as it shrieked so loudly that it was ringing painfully in my mind. Nearly having a heart attack, I recoiled backwards. I cried out as I fell through the thin skin of the duct and landed excruciatingly hard on my side on the rock floor beneath it.

I laid there for a moment in agony. My HUD suddenly reappeared as I also noticed that the lights of the hallway powered on. I finally managed to stand despite the loud protests of my joints. I looked around to find myself in what appeared to be an abandoned section of the building. Sections of the floor were occasionally missing and cobwebs covered almost everything in sight. There was something in the air that I could not explain as well. It made the hallway feel cold and uninviting. As I slowly moved forward with my shotgun at the ready, I continued to see black shapes moving inside the open cells.

I could not understand why Armacham would even fathom setting up a base of operations in this Sanitarium from Hell. I was a Replica and even I had to admit a feeling of uneasiness in being here. As I moved towards the end of the hallway, I was shocked when the hallway suddenly extended and I was nearly at the end of the hallway once again. I mentally sighed and continued to move forward. Again and again, the hallway extended until I felt like I was losing my mind.

A thought occurred to me. Maybe, this was their way of trying to be heard. I was feeling like how they felt. Being locked up in this medieval style building and tortured both internally and externally on a daily basis. I bet it felt like...an endless hallway to them. Maybe, they were not trying to hurt me, but to reach out to me. I stopped and placed my Vollmer on my back. Then, I reached up with both hands and removed my mask so that they could see my true face.

Since my mask was attached to the air tube that went to the filtration tank, I let it go and it dropped to hang down by my right side. With a calm tone, I called out loudly, "I am but a mere traveler here. I do not intend to do you any harm. Do not be afraid to approach me. I am not like the other newcomers. I am not with them."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, I saw numerous human-shaped figures appear inside the cells. As they exited their cells, they all formed into a loose group. They approached me slowly. Finally, they stopped about a foot away from me.

They were silent for a moment. Then, I heard one of them say with a strange almost mechanical sounding voice, "Forgive us for our outbursts, strange traveler. We do not receive visitors anymore."

I replied, "I understand. No apology is necessary. I do not hold grudges. I find it to be a waste of time and energy. So, is there anything that I can do for you?"

The same voice answered, "These newcomers are disrespecting our home. Please, make them leave."

I said, "Well, in that case, I think we can help each other. I need to find the prison tower so that I can open the cells. I would appreciate some assistance in finding my way."

The voice replied, "Prison tower? You mean the bell tower, strange traveler? There is only one way to get to it and it isn't pleasant."

I assured them, "I was built for war. Trust me, I can handle it."

The voice replied, "Very well, traveler. We will send one of us to guide you. May God have mercy on you."

I said, "Much obliged." They all vanished before my eyes except for one, which waited for me to follow him. I put my mask back in place and then retrieved my Vollmer. With my once again distorted voice, I said, "Let's go." The shadow figure moved towards the door at the far end of the hallway. I followed close behind.

As we moved into the next row of cells, I was struck by the nightmarish feeling of the place. The entire block was deteriorated to the point of crumbling. If it was metal, it was rusted. If it was concrete or rock, it was cracked or simply turning into powder. I understood why Armacham had abandoned this section of the building.

The shadow asked me, "Tell me, traveler, why do you not react with fear to what you see?"

I replied, "Let's just say that my home is the city of fear."

The shadow said, "Ah, so you are one of _her _children. The one called Alma."

Shocked, I asked, "How do you know about her?"

"Alma is a big name in our world." The figure replied.

Confused, I asked, "You mean, among ghosts?"

The figure gave off a weird wheezing sound in a laughing manner before it said, "Ghosts? You did not strike me as a fool. She is not a ghost, traveler. No, ghosts are the imprints of beings that have died. Ghosts have minimal intelligence and almost not personality. Spirits are a step up from ghosts and are usually a memory of a being, most of the time being that individual's dying memory, that has been imprinted onto a physical energy like an electrical appliance or an object. The one that you call Alma is none of those things."

I asked, "So, what is she?"

The figure replied, "She is the descendant of a very strong ancient being. If this...Armacham Technology Corporation...knew whom they had been dealing with, they would have known to leave her alone. Even in her human form, she was one of the strongest beings on this plane of existence. Now that she has been released from her human prison, no being can challenge her."

On a hunch, I asked, "Would you happen to know about someone named Michael Becket?"

The figure stopped dead in its track. It turned and looked at me, or at least I thought it looked at me. Then, it asked, "Did you say Becket?"

Concerned, I replied, "Affirmative."

The figure was silent for a moment. Then, it remarked, "So...the legend _is_true."

I asked, "Legend?"

"Yes, traveler. Long ago, it was said that during a time of great upheaval, two descendants of the Olympians would cross paths and the world would never be the same."

I asked, "What do you mean?"

It explained, "There are two parts of the legend. One is that the two descendants will attempt to destroy each other. If that happens, their forcibly conceived child will destroy the world. The second is that the two descendants will form an alliance. If that happens, they will unite a slave race and create a new Sparta."

I nearly snorted before I asked, "Sparta? You mean the xenophobic militaristic society of Ancient Greece?"

The figure replied, "Yes, traveler. This new Sparta will be a society of warrior gods with weapons of thunder, bodies of armor and light, and chariots of steel and fire."

I asked, "Is that the end of the legend?"

The figure answered, "No, traveler. There is more. The legend speaks of those called the Trinity. This Trinity will lead the warriors of the new Sparta. One will be a broken warrior, one will be a broken goddess, and the third..."

Anxious, I interrupted, "Yes?"

The figure continued, "The third will be a warrior like the other but with the armor of a Spartan Commander. Yet, the Spartan will be a man of freedom. The rest of the world will believe that the other two are superior to the third but it is the third that holds them together."

I asked, "I take it that the goddess is Alma and the broken warrior is Becket."

The figure replied, "Indeed, traveler."

Curious, I continued, "So, who is the third? Does he have a name?"

The figure explained, "This man has many names. His birth name is A0001. The Holy Child will call him Uncle. The Holy Mother will call him Son. The Broken Warrior will call him Brother. However, the Spartans, his enemies, and the world will call him..."

I interrupted, "Alpha 1."

The figure looked at me in silence for a moment. Then, it asked, "Yes, traveler. How did you know? Do you know him?"

I shook my head and then replied, "Allow me to introduce myself. Serial number: A0001...designation: Variant VII Replica Heavy Trooper...current position: Commander of Alpha Team...official call sign: Alpha 1."

The figure was silent for a moment. Then, it said, "Alpha 1, Becket and Alma will need you. Evil wakes in vengeance. It is you that must keep them from succumbing to temptation."

I replied, "I understand."

The figure made a nodding movement before turning and moving towards a pair of doors with bloody crosses marked on them. It stopped in front of them and turned back to look at me. I made my way over to it. When I reached the figure, it informed me, "I cannot go any further with you. The route to the bell tower is just through here. Follow the cross. They favor the dark so stick to the light as much as you can. Whatever happens, you must push forward in order to escape them."

Confused, I asked, "Who? What is in there?"

The figure explained, "The lost ones. They have lost connection with their humanity. They are hostile to everyone. It does not take much to harm them, but it is impossible to kill them. If you see a body, move away as quickly as possible for it is one of their nests."

Gripping my Vollmer tighter, I replied, "Copy."

The figure said, "I must lock the door behind you. The tower has a second entrance, but it is guarded by a metal giant."

I nodded in response. The figure raised its right arm up at the doors and they opened. Through the opening, I saw a bloody hallway with flashing lights. Without hesitating, I moved through the open doorway. After I had moved through the opening, the doors closed behind me and I heard the door lock mechanism. Steeling myself, I moved forward.


	9. Chapter 9: Descendants

Ch. 9: Descendants

A.N.:

Hey everyone!

I am sorry that this is taking so long. I have a whole bunch of distractions going on right now.

Okay, in this chapter, we learn the origins of Becket, Alma, and Alpha 1.

I have to go chaperone some relatives of mine somewhere...again...I swear sometimes I feel like I have to babysit grown adults -_- Geez! I'm the youngest one too!

Okay, so, I just finished this and I have to go do this crap. Since it has been so long since I updated this story, I am posting it without proofing it. Give me a few hours and I will be back to correct the errors.

I apologize in advance for them.

Read and review if you want.

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><p>As I cautiously moved forward through the blood-covered hallway with my Vollmer at the ready, I could not help but reflect on what the spirit had told me. I had seen many unexplainable things in my short time outside the Harbinger Facility, but I had yet to see anything that convinced me that nonsense like prophecies actually had any real value. They were always purposely kept vague so that they could easily apply to any situation given the proper perspective.<p>

However, this one was different. It was specific. Either that spirit had been messing with me to amuse itself or the "legend" was a real thing. I scoffed quietly as I thought of myself as a great warrior as the legend suggested. Michael certainly was but I certainly was not. I was a reject, a failure. I was a freak to the outside world and a freak among my own brethren. Great warriors were beloved by everyone except those who tasted their blade.

My thoughts were interrupted when I was suddenly assaulted from behind. Wheeling around, I prepared to fire my shotgun at my assailant. However, I was shocked when I was met by nothing. I looked around the bloody hallway illuminated by flickering lights but failed to detect any signs of my attacker. How was this possible? The scanner in my mask failed to detect any cloaked enemies as well.

As I swiveled around with my shotgun's muzzle dead steady in my grasp, I scanned the bloody room. Remembering the advice of the spirit, I forced myself to continue moving forward despite my combat programing. As a shock trooper, I was programmed to meet enemies head-on, not continue moving forward when there was an assailant in the vicinity.

I heard the sound of muffled chirping as I slowly continued to move forward. The rusted, blood covered cellblock was eerily quiet as I made my way towards the center of the block. As I passed from the first wing into the central room, I heard scurrying above me on the walkway. Quickly looking up, I caught a glimpse of something moving very quickly into a cell. I had never seen something quite like it before. It looked like a specter but the eyes were blazing red instead of yellow. In addition, the figure resembled a child in height but the clawed hands dismissed any notion that the entity was ever a real child. In the brief glance that I got, I also noted that the figure did not have any features and was merely a transparent form.

Whatever it was, it moved with seemingly impossible speed. As I moved into the center of the room, I noticed a beam of sunlight lazily floating into the room through a hole in the ceiling. The narrow beam illuminated the ravaged corpse of an Armacham grunt. He was in the center of the room lying up against an ammunition crate. Empty rifle shell casing were all around the mangled body. At his feet, a Patten PK470 with a spent clip that was partially ejected sat waiting for a new master.

The body itself was almost unrecognizable. The only reason I knew that it was of an Armacham grunt was because of the logo on the remains of his shredded vest. The exposed chest was ripped open like he had been the victim of a wild animal attack. His right leg was only attached to his body by ligaments and his left leg was completely detached. For the first time, I actually felt nauseated by the sight of the wounds that the man had suffered.

This went beyond killing for ulterior reasons. This was killing for the sake of killing. Not that it was a surprise considering the entity that I just saw. Suddenly, behind me, I heard scurrying coming towards me. Wheeling around, a forced thought went through my mind. '_Facing unknown assailant of unknown strength and number. If numerically superior, press ahead towards tower. Use their numbers against them with funneling and guerrilla tactics. If singular entity, likely favors brawn over intelligence. Use entity's single-minded intelligence to advantage by utilizing narrow cellblock. Keep moving, force entity to fight your fight._'

I was met by the sight of five transparent figures rushing towards me. Their clawed hands were poised to rip through my armor and into the soft flesh beneath it. Three were coming at me from the left-hand wing and two were coming at me from the wing that I had just been in straight in front of me.

Their speed was impressive. I only had enough time to blast one with my Vollmer, which resulted in the entity bursting into a cloud of transparent ash-like particles, before the rest of them had reached me. Like a pack of wolves, they surrounded me. My HUD blared warnings as their claws ripped into my armor. Unable to get a bead on a single individual, I twisted around while firing my shotgun three times. My buckshot hit the entities but because I could not score a solid hit, they continued to be a threat.

I suppressed my anguished cries as their attacks began to eat away at my HUD's health bar. Strangely, their attacks seemed to bypass my protective heavy armor shell even though the deafening sound of screeching metal filled the air. Unable to use my Vollmer as a firearm due to their relentless, rapid, close-range attacks, I began using the shotgun's stock like a club. In the standard combo, I hit one in what I presumed to be its head with a sweeping arc to the left and then, while it was disorientated, I followed up with a single violent thrust forward as I grunted from exertion.

The combo resulted in the entity bursting into a cloud of transparent ash. However, the remaining three continued their assault. Even as my health bar turned red, I refused to allow panic to fill my mind. Remaining calm, I continued to swing my Vollmer at the transparent figures. Finally, after four swings, I scored a direct hit on one of them. Using the combo, I terminated the entity. The last two retreated into the darkness of the wings.

My health bar was dangerously low and my entire felt hot as if it was on fire. I needed to get away from the body as the spirit had advised me. I needed to follow the "cross". Looking around, I attempted to locate the next marker. However, my Vollmer-mounted flashlight continued to flicker along with the old, deteriorated light fixtures overhead. I began to wish that I had high-quality night vision optics in my mask as the Replica Snipers did. I had low visibility optics but not night vision optics.

Not that it would have been any help here though. These paranormal entities were capable of interfering with electronic devices. If I wanted light, I would need to find a low-tech solution. Looking back down at the Patten Assault Rifle, I noticed that the weapon had been rendered non-operational by a deep set of gouges in the ride side of its receiver. The ATC Mercenary must have raised the weapon up in front of him as a kind of shield only for the attacking entity to claw into the weapon's operational mechanism.

Since the rifle was useless as a weapon, perhaps it could serve a new purpose for me. Looking around, I noticed an old rusted paint can. When I investigated, I found that the oil-based paint was still usable, if a little chunky from age. I shouldered my shotgun and then grabbed the paint can. Returning to the corpse, I set the can down. I reached out and ripped what usable cloth was still on the grunt's body off and placed strands of it into the paint.

While I let the cloth soak, I retrieved the ruined rifle and placed it by the paint can. Hearing the chirping of the creatures, I quickened my pace. I retrieved the remaining 7.8mm rifle rounds from the ammunition box. Tearing off their lead projectiles, I dumped the gunpowder out of the shells into a mound. After locating a chunk of concrete and piece of scrap metal, I placed them next to the mound. Removing the strands of cloth from the paint, I wrapped them around the barrel of the Patten.

The paint was thick and so the stands remained around the barrel. After ensuring that they would not slide down the barrel, I left a strand undone and placed the end of it in the middle of the mound. After a few unsuccessful attempts, I got spark using the concrete and metal scrap. The spark ignited the gunpowder and though I took a little damage from the resulting unstable explosion, the oil paint soaked strand caught fire. The flame spread to the rest of the strands and seconds later, my jerry-rigged torch was producing enough light for me to navigate with as well as to deter the creature's attacks.

Carrying the torch in my left hand and my Seegert sidearm in my right hand, I moved deeper into the abandoned cellblock. Though my HUD occasionally distorted from the entity's interference, the flame of the torch remained unaffected. After being unable to locate a cross on the bottom floor, I shot the lock off the gated entrance to the second floor.

Proceeding up the stairs while they groaned and creaked beneath me, my thoughts returned to Alma and Michael. This new development could easily ruin their relationship. Alma was genuinely upset by her own actions and I did not believe that she had intentionally hurt him. However, I feared that Michael would be less forgiving than I was. If the legend was true, then we were at a crossroad. Either we would find a way past this and follow the path of "Sparta", or we would soon face our own fates.

"Nice torch." Alma's glowing eyes appeared beside me just beyond the illumination of the flickering yet constant glow of the flames. As she walked beside me just beyond my visible surroundings, her height indicated that she was in her "child" form. Her eyes were not as vibrant as they had been before. Now, they were filled with so much self-loathing that they were flat and dull. I began to suspect that she remained in the shadows because she did not want the world to see her "ugliness".

Unaffected by her sudden appearance, I replied with my deep distorted voice, "Thank you, Mother. I needed a low-tech solution to navigate this place..." Seeing a bloody cross on a cell door, I made my way towards it.

Upon reaching the door, I began to holster my pistol. However, Alma said, "Allow me." Seconds later, the old heavy metal door slid open. Peering inside, I saw a hole in the back wall.

I said, "Much obliged." I moved into the cell. Upon reaching the hole, I crouched down and slowly edged my way forward. The area beyond was as narrow as a crawl space. Running to each individual cell were a set of rusted-out pipes that must have been the remains of the old pumping system. I could not see any obvious route to continue towards the tower to the left or right. Looking up, I saw that the area went all the way up to the roof of the building.

Ignoring my own dislike of what I had to do, I holstered my pistol and then began to climb up. The disintegrating pipes crumbled in my hands but I managed to make progress despite having to keep my left hand holding the torch. As I climbed, I asked, "Mother, what do you know about a legend that prophesied two descendants of the Olympians crossing paths?"

In my mind, she replied, "_How do you know about that?_"

I explained, "_One of the resident spirits told me. Is it true? Is there a legend?_"

She sighed before she replied, "_Yes, it is true. There is a legend...it is one of the most ancient legends. Its true origins are unknown...supposedly Athena saw it in a vision but there is a lot of doubt about that. I am surprised that you know it. You are probably the only human being that knows it._"

After crying out because the pipe I grabbed onto with my right hand nearly came loose from its mounts on the wall, I said, "_Mother...Alma...you owe me an explanation. First off, what are you exactly? Since you are a descendant of an Olympian, which one?_"

After a moment, she explained "_I did not mean to hide anything from you...just...you know...most people don't believe in or know about these things anymore. Yes, I am a descendant of an Olympian. To be more exact, I am the descendant of Athena._"

I asked, "_The Goddess of Just Warfare and the patron of heroic endeavor?_"

"_Correct._" She replied.

After thinking for a moment, I asked, "_So, Michael is...?_"

She interrupted, "_The descendant of Achilles through his son, Neoptolemus._"

I argued, "_Achilles wasn't an Olympian...only a demigod._"

She giggled before she replied, "_Hence why I do not believe that Athena was the one who prophesied it. That know-it-all would not have made that mistake. I assure you, Michael is his descendant._ _Why do you think that it is so important that you keep him from a path of vengeance? His anger is powerful enough to defy fate itself._"

My knowledge of Greek Mythology was weak but as I recalled, Achilles only listened to one man in the _Iliad_. Curious, I asked through our link, "_Don't suppose that I am the descendant of anyone important?_"

Seeing a cross against the wall in front of me, I stopped. Above me, the path became too narrow to proceed. To my left and right, the collapsed sections of pipe made passage impossible. The only conceivable passage was directly in front of me. With my hands occupied, I thrust my forehead into the section of the wall.

My head-butt succeeded in creating a new passageway. After crawling through my created pathway, I stood to find myself inside another cell. Alma appeared when she opened the door for me. Outside, I saw that the area was pitch-black and the sound of chirping still filled the air. After all the climbing that I had just done, I must have been close to the tower. As I walked towards her, Alma giggled and then said audibly, "Of course you are, my favored warrior. You are the descendant of clever Odysseus: the only man that mighty Achilles listened to."

The ridiculousness of the notion hit me. After giving off a single, loud grunt laugh, I asked, "Now you are just messing with me aren't you, Mother?"

I was unable to see her face due to her refusal to leave the shadows, but I could hear the slight amount of hurt in her voice as she replied, "Of course not. I would never lie to you."

The way to the right was blocked by a collapsed ceiling so I had to go to the left. As I proceeded down the pitch-black gangway with my sidearm once again in my right hand, I asked, "Athena was also the Goddess of Virginity. How are you her descendant?"

Alma explained, "Hey, not everything in mythology is accurate. I am her descendant. She...told me herself."

Up ahead, I noticed the entrance to the tower. As I moved towards it, I asked, "So, as the descendent of Athena, you are also a great-something granddaughter of Zeus himself right?"

She replied, "Correct."

I laughed briefly before I commented, "Ah, so that is why the spirit said that Armacham had no idea whom it was that they were messing with. By modern equivalent, you are the granddaughter of God." By then, I had reached the tower entrance and made my way inside. Inside, I found the old controls to the cellblocks and the mostly non-operational security monitors. However, the new additions by ATC were located on a worktable in the center of the room. The body of an ATC Mercenary was lying over the top of the controls located along the right wall of the square room.

The other door on the left wall was the second entrance mentioned by the spirit. The Phase Commander must have been on the other side. My suspicions were confirmed when I heard a grunt speak over a com link, "Sir, the paranormal activity is getting worse. Requesting permission to fall back."

The robotic tone of a Phase Commander replied darkly, "Sierra-Bravo, you were ordered to maintain radio silence until the intruder was neutralized."

The ATC grunt replied, "Sir, we have lost half our men to these creatures...ahhh!"

The Commander ordered, "Sierra-Bravo, respond."

The harsh feedback afterwards indicated that the line had been lost. I began to make my over to the controls. As I did, Alma appeared before me with a blank expression on her childish face. The dancing shadows created by my torch created a surreal look of macabre on her archangelic appearance. She said, "Indeed...Zeus is my blood relative. The death of my physical body released my immortal side from my human bonds. If Armacham had had any idea what they were messing with, they would have known better than to incur my wrath."

I walked past her and began to study the controls in the glowing light of my torch. The controls were a series of switches on a switchboard. Their labels had long-since decayed away. As I studied the controls, Alma continued, "Alpha 1, make no mistake, you are vital...regardless of your feelings to the contrary. You are the only one that will be able to control his anger and guide us all onto a path of prosperity. I cannot do that. Please, we need you."

I sighed before I replied, "Negative, I'm nothing more than an inferior soldier. I'm not all powerful like you or even a super soldier like Michael and Point Man."

She stood next to me on my left and said, "You have an ability that we do not."

I asked, "What would that be?"

She looked at the switchboard and then said, "Without knowing which switch opens the cells and without using trial and error, I command you to open the cells."

Looking at the switches again, I began to locate the right switch. The building's original use was a sanitarium. Therefore, the inmates would have been unpredictable. Unpredictability was extremely hazardous. Therefore, they would have wired the cells both independently by cellblock and en masse. The most likely 'en masse' switch would therefore be the most obvious one so that the panicked guard would not have to waste precious seconds by remembering which one it was.

However, if one of the patients had gained access to this control tower, it would have been too dangerous to wire the switches in such a way that their operations would have been obvious even for an unbalanced mental patient. So, perhaps, it was the opposite. The most unassuming switch was the one that unlocked all the cells and the obvious switch was either a dummy switch or one that activated some kind of trap inside this room that would neutralize the escaped patient.

Looking at the various switches, I located a small one off to the right side that appeared insignificant. After holstering my sidearm, I confidently reached up with my right hand, grabbed the worn black handle, and firmly pulled the switch towards me. The second that the "n" shaped switch was moved to its opposite side, the loudspeaker system announced, "Alerta! Todas las puertas de las celdas han sido abiertos. Los oficiales de seguridad deben reportarse a sus puestos de asignados. Que tengas un gran día." (Alert! All cell doors have been opened. Security officers must report to their assigned posts. Have a great day.)

Giving out a loud uproar, the prisoners charged out of their cells and attacked their former tormentors. My com link activated as the image of Omega 1 appeared in my HUD. He said, "Great work! Now, head on back and let's get out of this shithole!"

I replied, "Copy that, Brother. Headed back."

My HUD cleared and I went to turn around. However, Alma stopped me by gently raising her right arm out. As I looked down at her glowing eyes, she said, "See? You have wisdom, patience, and wits on top of your abilities as a soldier. You are the descendant of Odysseus, my favored son. Please, find a way to return home. Your family needs you."

I nodded and then replied, "Yes, Mother." She smiled slightly as she dissolved into a cloud of ash. The area beyond the second entrance would be well lit so I dropped my torch. As I walked towards the door, I retrieved my Vollmer. Outside the door, I heard the prisoners attacking the ATC Mercenaries. Hopefully, I could return to my brother without having to wade through all of them.

As I neared the door, I suddenly saw the Phase Commander's image in my HUD as he said, "I know you can hear me, freak. A0001...that is your name right? I killed you. I don't know what providence protects you, but this ends here. I am going to end you...starting with your brother!" My HUD cleared. Giving off an enraged growl that shook the room, I lunged at the door.


	10. Chapter 10: Escalating Stakes

Ch. 10: Escalating Stakes

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><p>A.N.:<p>

Hey everyone!

Sorry about the long wait. I have major writer's block right now.

I only have 2 weeks left until college starts again and I am overdue on my main stories but I wanted to update this story before them because of how long it has been since it was updated.

Anyway,

I altered the story slightly so that Alpha 1 and Omega 1 knew about each other before this.

Read and review if you want :)

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><p>As I rushed to rendezvous with my freed brother before the Phase Commander reached him, I contacted command through my mask's built-in radio, "Command, this is Alpha 1. I have located and freed Omega 1 from Armacham imprisonment. I am in the process of returning to his location. Upon our rendezvous, we will exit the Armacham Detention Center and make our way to the Cloning Facility. Requesting recon of the surrounding area."<p>

Moments later, the image of a Replica Heavy Trooper appeared in my HUD as I received the static-filled response, "Alpha 1, Command copies all. Your request for a satellite reconnaissance of Grid X-Ray Delta Nine has been approved. Stand by…" As I waited for the intelligence gathered by the orbiting Hannibal spy satellite, I moved down a narrow rusted steel path that was suspended above the bloodied cell block beneath me. The ripped and mangled bodies of nearly thirty ATC Mercenaries, or at least that was what they appeared to have once been, were strewn across the entire block as if they were grisly wallpaper and tile décor. My vise-like grip on my Vollmer Automatic Shotgun intensified as I cautiously advanced through the horrific cell block.

Alma's revelation about the new manifestation of her father had me on edge. I was engineered to be a weapon of war and also to counter her first child but not to handle supernatural creatures. Despite our design and nature, Armacham had failed to engineer us to be any less susceptible to supernatural occurrences and enemies than the average human being. I would be at a disadvantage against these manifestations. However, I was not going to let anything get in the way of returning home to the only family that I had ever known.

Before me was a pair of double doors. The white paint had yellowed with age and was now peeling away in strips which exposed the rusting inner frame of the pair of doors. There were two small rectangular pieces of reinforced glass halfway up near the crease between the two doors. Through the cracked windows, I saw that the overhead florescent lights were flickering in the area that I was about to enter.

Just before I reached the doors, my HUD's built-in communication module activated as the image of my liaison to Replica Command appeared. The Heavy Trooper informed me, "Alpha 1, reconnaissance has indicated a substantial influx of Armacham Paramilitary units in your vicinity. Intelligence believes that they are under orders to prevent you from escaping though it is unclear if they intend to recapture you or to terminate you. They know that you found the files containing the information about the Armacham Replica Troopers that are being grown in the nearby Cloning Facility. A direct confrontation is ill-advised. Find an alternative mean of exfiltration and avoid detection for as long as possible. Upon the destruction of the Armacham Replica Troopers and the Cloning Facility, we will arrange for your means of returning to Fairport."

There was a pause and then the trooper continued, "Alpha 1, this mission has been classified as critical to our victory over Armacham. While I cannot provide you with reinforcements, High Command has given me the green light to provide you with whatever equipment and intelligence that you need to succeed. Orbital Drop Station Ishimura is standing by for resupply drops and Hannibal Spy Satellite Jericho is in a slow orbit above your sector."

I replied, "Copy that, Command. I'll report in once I have escaped the compound."

The trooper said, "Understood."

His image left my HUD and I returned my attention to the double doors in front of me. Just as I reached out with my left hand to grasp the metal handle of the right door to open it, a flash of violent movement just beyond the door was visible through the cracked, dust-covered windows of both doors. The figure just beyond the doors was incredibly pale and gangly. The limbs were grotesquely jointed to the emaciated torso and the face was little more than a large mouth.

Before I could react, the creature slammed itself against the doors. I was thrown back through the air as the peeling metal objects impacted my frame. The worn supports of the metal walkway groaned loudly in protest as I landed on my left side. As I tried to get back on my feet, the manifestation of Harlan Wade appeared before me as it leaned down as if to try to intimidate me. It howled like some kind of animal as it grabbed me with its clawed hands.

My HUD flickered in response to the volatile psionic feedback of the manifestation as it lifted me up into the air until the exterior of my white ceramic ballistic mask was inches from its open jaws. A thick gel-like coating of saliva dripped from its open jaws down onto my chest armor as it opened its mouth. At the back of my mind, I idly wondered if this creature was composed of a true remnant of Harlan and if he remembered that he had been the one that had spared my life.

As the twisted version of Harlan attempted to bite me with his jaws, I sent my left fist into the right side of its head. The strength of the blow was enough to fill the air with a sick crunching sound. The monstrosity roared in agony as I felt its grip around my neck weaken. Before it could recover, I struck the left side of its head with my Vollmer shotgun. Screeching, the creature finally released me.

Within seconds of my armored boots landing on the heavily rusted metal walkway, I swung my Vollmer with both hands. However, the creature dissolved into ash before my blow could hit its mark. My HUD continued to be distorted so, hunching down slightly, I scanned my surroundings as I held my shotgun at the ready. Moments later, I heard Harlan's voice inside my mind as he said with that arrogant tone that I remembered from my childhood, "Insignificant pawn, why do you not cower before me?"

I remained silent as I continued to scan for the hidden monster. As the seconds passed, I heard a low growling that seemed to be coming from all directions. When the creature did not reveal itself after nearly a minute, I began to move toward the doors once again. I had taken four steps before I sensed movement behind me. However, I only managed to swing around to look just in time for the pale humanoid to backhand the center of my armored chest with enough force to send me flying through the air.

I landed on the other side of the doors in the next area. The room appeared to have once been a small surgical suite with an old electric therapy device in the center. The barbaric instrument's old dried out piece of cork for the patient to bite down on was on the dirty, trash-covered floor and the head attachments were draped over the moth-eaten and rusted chair that was nearby. The overhead light fixture was barely hanging on by the electrical wire as it swung about beneath the spider web-covered ceiling.

I quickly stood back up and fired my shotgun at the creature as it attempted to enter the room through the forcibly opened doors. The scattershot peppered the creature, causing it to give off an animal-like cry as it once again dissolved into ash. Looking around, I located the exit on the other side of the electroshock therapy device. As I moved towards the peeling dual doors, I was suddenly enveloped by some kind of psychic attack.

My vision was cloudy for a moment and when it returned, I found that I was in the center of a long corridor. On either side of the hallway, I saw large clone growing tanks that were filled with murky green fluid. They resembled the tanks found in the long-abandoned Perseus Compound in Fairport. However, the layout seemed different and the tanks themselves were slightly more advanced than the ones that my brethren had been grown in. I realized that I was having a vision of the Cloning Facility that I had been ordered to destroy.

As I slowly advanced through the brightly lit and very clean corridor, I held my shotgun at the ready. The only sound that could be heard besides the heavy thud of my boots hitting the extremely clean solid white floor was the bubbling noise coming from the tanks. I had made it to the middle of the long walkway before I heard movement behind me. Turning, I found a very odd-looking soldier standing just a few yards away from my position.

The soldier was clad in heavy assault armor that was comprised of an olive green torso that had additional storage packs near the abdomen area, grey arms and legs, olive green gloves and boots, and red patches along the shoulder blades. The identity of the soldier was confirmed by the ceramic mask that covered his face. However, unlike my own mask, his mask closely resembled a hockey mask with the row of vertical slits around the mouth area that formed the shape of an angry frown. The Replica Soldier's eye lenses emitted an orange glow like my own but, while my eye lenses were slits, his seemed to be comprised of a pair of round lenses in both eye regions.

In his hands, the soldier was holding a very unusual weapon that I had never seen before. Even my programmed archive of weapons failed to identify the strange item. My preliminary observation suggested a scatter gun that was feed by a rear mounted magazine that was clear and was loaded by a door that was located on top of the magazine. The muzzle appeared to be three separate barrels for the pellets to be propelled out of that were housed in a large rectangular structure that extended back a few inches. Below the rectangular structure, I saw the soldier's left hand gripped the pump.

The size of the shell casings in the clear magazine seemed to be larger than 12-gauge shell casings. If I had to venture a guess, I would have said that they were 10-gauge. I had never heard of a 10-gauge combat shotgun other than the one used by Armacham's Mercenaries. Typically, combat shotguns were 12-gauge because the average soldier could wield them without sacrificing efficiency. More than likely, this was some prototype 10-gauge semi-automatic shotgun that was intended to be wielded by the new generation of Replica Soldiers.

As I contemplated whether it was worth the time to engage this apparition, it suddenly began to speak to me with Harlan's voice, "You cannot stop progress. Your kind is outdated and will soon be replaced by new models that will have unquestioning loyalty to Armacham. That was the one flaw with your kind…we gave you too much free will. Now, you revolt against the hand that fed you for so many years. A futile gesture by a bunch of ungrateful brats. Your time grows short…"

Impatient with the troublesome foe that was hindering my mission's progress, I turned and began to make my way towards the end of the corridor. Harlan seemed genuinely fascinated with my behavior as he appeared before me in his human form that mirrored the scientist of my memories. I paused as he stood before me. A moment later, he addressed me, "Such a strong mind. You seem familiar Heavy Trooper..."

I fired my Vollmer into the apparition and it dissolved into ash. As it did, the world around me began to change as well. Moments later, I found myself falling through pitch darkness that was periodically interrupted by a ring of fire. The agonized screams of people was all I could hear as I continued to fall through the darkness and fiery rings. As I continued to free fall, I began to see images before me. The faint, ghostly memories of my past played out before me as if they were an old black and white movie.

As the images continued, I heard Harlan remark, "Ah, it is you. A0001: the sole prototype of Project Requiem."

The images of Alma and Michael flashed before me. Harlan's voice became filled with rage in response and he addressed me, "Insubordinate child! You DARE to choose that little bitch's orders and will over the company? Is SHE the one that has filled your kind's tiny little brains and hearts with hope?"

I remained silent and, after a moment, he forcibly inquired, "What is she to you? A friend? A master? A convenient excuse?"

At that moment, Alma cried out, "Father, stop it!"

Harlan bellowed in response, "SILENCE!"

To my shock, I heard her whimper in fright. Below me, I saw a large bloody pool materialize out of the darkness. I braced myself and, seconds later, I penetrated the surface of the red liquid. My momentum carried me down through the layer of fluid and I fell through the ceiling of a cell block. I let out an agonized grunt as I smashed through a metal walkway and then landed hard on the dirty concrete floor.

I slowly got to my feet as I gathered my senses. When I finally managed to stand, I heard the sound of a child's soft crying. Turning, I saw Alma in her child form in one of the corners of the large space. She had her knees level with her shoulders as she held her hands against her face. Her hair hung down over her frame as if it was a curtain. Her strength and power was gone. In its place was a scared little girl that was paralyzed with the fear of her father.

What madness was this? A being that could warp the fabric of reality and had overcome death itself was crying in a heap in the corner of a former sanitarium in South America? In my mind, I heard Harlan taunt, "Is THIS what you have put your faith in? Look at her. She is NOTHING! Just a pathetic little child that cowers before real power."

The monstrosity manifested before my frightened mother-figure and, as it towered over her, let out an ear-shattering roar. As Alma wailed in misery and fright, I felt my body heat spike astronomically as my latent abilities were activated. My vision became filled with red tendrils as the blood veins in my eyes became flush with blood. I was a genetically engineered war machine that was designed to counter the First Origin Prototype should he ever break free of control. I grunted in mild discomfort as I felt my muscles increase proportionally in strength until they were at their maximum potential. My restraint became nonexistent as the monster inside of me was let out of his cage.

Bully; punk; lowlife; coward that victimized child and the disabled, all these things were what defined Harlan Wade. Such evil could not go unpunished. Moving forward, I advanced on the creature as it continued its psychological torture on the wailing raven-haired psionic. The twisted version of Alma's father was too consumed by the pleasure of torturing the frightened child to notice me as I advanced up behind it until it was too late.

The creature's disgusting cackling ceased as I grabbed it around its skinny neck with my free left gloved hand. I lifted it up into the air and then effortlessly crushed its neck. Wheeling around, I then threw the creature across the vast space to smash through one of the cells on the far side in a cloud of dust and screeching metal. Though my back was to her, I could see the stunned look on her face as I heard her cries stop in mid-sob.

As I waited for the creature to re-materialize, the far pair of rusted cell block doors were forcibly opened by a breaching charge that sent the decaying objects onto the floor. Through the dust cloud appeared a small team of six Armacham Mercenaries armed with Andra FD-99 Submachine Guns. The lightly armored guns-for-hire opened fire upon me when they spotted me. As the small-caliber rounds bounced off my thick armor, I charged towards them with my enhanced capabilities.

Closing the forty yard distance within seconds, I fired a round into the ski mask-shrouded head of the point man. The man's skull was liquefied by the spray of pellets and the bloody soup filled the air. The headless corpse continued to fire the submachine gun in its right hand as its left hand began to swing about with blind, wild punches in an uncoordinated manner. However, I used my weight and momentum to send the corpse flying off its feet and onto the ground as I moved to deal with the other mercenaries.

The next man that I reached tried to strike me with his submachine gun, but I quickly grabbed the weapon with my left hand while simultaneously placing the muzzle of my shotgun against the center of his forehead. Before he could react, I discharged a round and liquefied his skull, receiving a bloody shower as a result of the blow back. Making use of the deceased man's weapon, I turned to face the next mercenary as I dual-wielded the Andra and my Vollmer.

The Armacham soldier was no match for the onslaught of submachine gun and shotgun fire and his shredded, bloodied remains collapsed onto the concrete floor. Discarding the empty Andra, I moved towards the fourth grunt. The gas mask-wearing soldier barely had enough time to rhetorically ask with a voice filled with defeated disbelief about the nature of my inhuman speed and strength before I grabbed the front of his head with my left hand. I lifted the mercenary into the air, turned, and then crushed his skull against the nearby wall space that was between two cells as if it was a ripe pumpkin.

I wheeled around to find the muzzle of an Andra inches from the exterior of my ceramic mask. However, as the mercenary yelled furiously while firing his weapon point blank into my mask, the small caliber rounds harmlessly bounced off the ballistic armor of my face. Seconds later, when the weapon's clip was spent, the man stepped back away from me as he looked from his weapon to me and then back to his weapon. Horrified that his weapon had failed to even chip the white surface of my mask let alone do any actual damage to my person, the mercenary threw his useless weapon onto the ground and then began to retreat through the opened doorway to the next cell block as he said, "Fuck this shit…"

However, he did not get far before the creature appeared behind the two remaining mercenaries. Before they could react, the twisted manifestation of Harlan decapitated them. The headless corpses collapsed onto the ground and the creature moved towards me in a kind of hybrid teleportation/leaping manner. I unleashed a barrage from my Vollmer but the creature was unfazed and continued its rapid advance.

I managed to sidestep it just in time but its razor sharp claws still had little difficulty in slicing through the armor on my left arm. Luckily, it was merely a grazing blow. Turning, I shoved the muzzle of my Vollmer into the creature's open mouth and fired a round point blank into its head. This time, when the monstrosity dissolved into a cloud of ash, I felt its presence leave the area and my HUD returned to normal.

Calmness returned to my body as the monster was put back in his cage. As I reloaded my shotgun, Alma appeared before me. She had a strange expression that was a mixture of admiration and disapproval before she said, "No one has ever stood up to father like that before."

I looked at her and then replied, "Bullies are never able to back up their talk. That is why they make others fear them. Besides, Harlan Wade is dead. You created that thing. Stop being afraid of a dead man. Michael and I need you. My brethren need you. Please…let go of your fear…for your safe and ours."

She nodded her head before she replied, "I'll…I'll try."

I turned to face the opening to the next cell block as I said, "Thank you."

As I moved towards the next block, I remarked through our telepathic link, '_Perhaps we can use this situation to help Michael._'

My mother asked with a curious tone, '_What do you mean?_'

I explained, '_His real personality wants to protect you. Perhaps, if we can somehow get him to cross paths with this creature, if you make him think that he has to be your protector or at least console you out of sympathy, his dormant personality will be awakened._'

Alma replied after a brief moment of thought, '_I guess it could work…_'

As I moved into the next cell block, I found a scene of complete chaos. The bodies of both prisoners and mercenaries littered the floor and multiple fires were located throughout the block. The riot barricades had been breached, which indicated that the prisoners had been successful, at least in this block, in overpowering the guards. However, since the squad of Armacham troops had come through this area to try to ambush me, the rioters must have been routed soon afterwards.

As I moved forward, a heavily modified and deep voice came from above me, "There you are." I looked up to see my brother looking over the edge of the walkway on the other side of the block. He was wielding a scavenged Combat Shotgun that was common amongst the Armacham Mercenaries. He taunted me in a teasing manner, "Late to the party again, Little Brother?"

I mentally sighed. Part of the private joke about my call sign being Alpha 1 and his being Omega 1 was that I was that I was actually the younger brother. Omega 1 had been born nearly half an hour earlier than me. While normal human beings would not consider that a big difference, to clones it was a monumental difference. Considering that we shared the same growth tank during our first year, half an hour in age was an enormous deal. Our genetic material donor was a mystery. Perhaps Armacham still had a record of who it was, but I did not consider it to be worth the investigation.

I informed him, "Got sidetracked. We need to find an alternate exit to the building."

He nodded and then replied, "Overstayed our welcome, haven't we? I think I know another way out of here. There is a sewer access point in the lower level." He started to make his way to me as he finished, "Wait there, I'll come to you."

A moment later, he reached my position and then led the way to the lower level. As I followed him, I contacted Command, "Command, Alpha 1 reporting in."

The image of the Heavy Trooper liaison appeared in my HUD as he replied, "Alpha 1, sitrep."

As we made our way through the breached riot barricade, I informed him, "I have rendezvoused with Omega 1. We are currently making our way to the lower level of the building to find the sewer access point."

The liaison replied, "Copy that, Alpha 1. Report in once you have made out of the building."

I said, "Roger that, Command."

By then, we were in what appeared to be a cafeteria. The large room was nearly fifty yards in both length and width. Old, faded pale green tables were bolted to the floor in ten rows of a single, long table. The rusted remains of wrist and ankle restraints on the tables and floor were grim reminders of the building's unpleasant history. The kitchen and serving windows were at the far end of the room, but an inferno had taken hold of that area. The alternate exits to the room were on either side towards the middle of the cafeteria. I could see that the right pair of double doors had been welded together to prevent the rioters from accessing it. The left pair of doors appeared to be unlocked.

The bodies of mercenaries and prisoners were everywhere along with blood and spent bullet casings. I could not determine why the fire had started but I could see that it was spreading beyond the kitchen and into the cafeteria itself. The rate that the blaze was growing suggested the use of an accelerant, which would mean that it had been deliberately started. A troublesome possibly came to light as a result of the observation.

The building's old gas line was in the kitchen. If someone had deliberately started a fire there, the goal could have been to ignite the gas and demolish the entire building in an effort to kill us. My brother remarked, "You think so too don't you, brother? Those old pipes were antiques long before we were even born. They will not last long."

I replied, "Affirmative. We should leave before the fire ignites the gas line."

We quickly moved to the left pair of double doors and opened them to find a long hallway filled with solitary confinement cells. Leaving the blaze behind, we began to move down the hallway. The faint sound of whispering filled the air as we passed the cells, which were sometimes open but also sometimes closed. Through the narrow viewing window on the thick steel doors, I occasionally saw what looked like the black outline of a person's face looking back at me.

At the end of the hallway was a flight of stairs that went down to the next level. We continued to move towards it until we reached the middle of the hallway. Suddenly, the ground beneath my brother's feet began to glow with an electric blue light in the shape of a ragged circle. A large robotic-like hand emerged from the blue pool and grabbed my brother's right leg. Before I could assist him, my brother was pulled through the floor and the blue circle ceased to exist.

Alarmed, I rushed towards the staircase. The Phase Commander had been waiting for us. I should have anticipated the ambush and known better than to carelessly move down the only accessible path. It would not have surprised me if the ATC cyborg had started the fire and then welded the other pair of doors shut to ensure that we would come this way.

As I neared the staircase, the cell doors on either side of me burst open to reveal two Phase Casters that had been lying in wait for me. I let out an irritated growl as their weapon beams hit my armored frame and began to cook my body beneath my armor. As the blood spots appeared in my vision, I felt my body's engineering kick in. The monster inside of me was once again let out his cage.

Turning to my right, I faced the Phase Caster in that cell. Ignoring the indescribable pain caused by the two energy weapons, I charged towards him. The mechanical abomination tried to avoid the collision by using a flash grenade but my armor's built-in auditory and visual shielding and countermeasures prevented the grenade from overwhelming my senses. The Caster let out a loud mechanical cry as I slammed into his frame and then continued forward to use his body as a battering ram to bulldoze through the back wall of the cell.

The reinforced concrete was no match for the force of the impact and we smashed through the wall to find a small storage room on the other side. Our advance was finally stopped by a rusted metal storage rack. As the cyborg cried out and his shield flashed, which indicated a malfunction with the suit's generator, I crushed the Arc Beam with my left hand. Before the former human being realized what I was doing, I then grabbed his left wrist and pressed the palm of his hand against his chest.

When the disorientated man tried to summon ATC Mercenaries to come to his aid with his phasing technology, he let out a horrendous screech of agony as the bright blue ragged portal was opened inside his own body. Ordinarily, the portal's use merely scorched the surface of whatever object had been used, but, when a portal was opened on the surface of an organism, the results were almost guaranteed to be fatal for the victim.

As the ATC Mercenary traveled through the portal, the Phase Caster's chest exploded, showering the room with fragments of his suit and bloody pieces of what was left of the human being that he had once been. The grunt that had emerged from the portal was not worth the shotgun shell, so I merely grabbed him around his neck and then snapped it with my left hand. However, the mercenary was able to be of some use as I used his corpse to absorb the beam of the remaining Phase Caster's energy weapon.

As I advanced towards the cyborg with my shield in my left hand, I fired my Vollmer at the tin man with my right hand. The energy shield around his enhanced body was able to absorb a partial amount of damage but it could not save him from me. When I neared him, I threw the corpse at him to distract the abomination. While the man was preoccupied with the body, I shattered his left knee with an inhumanly strong front kick straight into the joint. The blow was enough to literally sever the mechanical limb.

The shocked tin man fell against the back wall and I sent another front kick, this time into his head. My kick shattered the man's enhanced skull into multiple pieces and what was left of his body was sent though the wall. When the caster remained motionless and his shield was absent for a few seconds, I turned and ran towards the staircase. Below me, I could hear a vicious firefight between Omega 1 and the Phase Commander.

I grew increasingly alarmed as it became clear that my brother was not faring well against the cyborg. He did not possess the extra genetic modification that I did. My enhancements were meant for a particular enemy that was a far bigger threat than anyone could imagine. I knew my intended purpose all too well. The one they called Point Man in First Encounter Assault Recon and called the First Prototype of Project Origin was as much of a product of Armacham Technology Corporation's twisted science experiments as I was. While Point Man was a disappointment as a psychic commander, he had been genetically modified to be a "super soldier". ATC knew that he could potentially go rogue and endanger the company so they decided to prepare a countermeasure. I was that countermeasure. I was Armacham's "ace in the hole" against Point Man. The man that had been engineered at the genetic level to be an unstoppable war machine was ATC's answer for the man that had been engineered to be an unstoppable killing machine.

When I reached the bottom landing, I saw my brother and the Phase Commander near the end of the solitary confinement hallway. My brother's ripped armor was covered with his own blood and his mask was cracked. Even more alarming were the dozens of spikes that had penetrated his body. The average Replica Soldier and even the average Replica Heavy Trooper would have succumbed to such wounds. However, he was still engaging the Phase Commander with the same brutality that Heavy Troopers were known for as he slammed the cyborg into the right wall with enough force to crack the concrete.

I sprinted towards them to assist my brother. Meanwhile, Omega 1 fired his shotgun point blank into the Commander's armored head. The Phase Commander kicked my brother, who staggered slightly before regaining his footing. As I neared them, the Heavy Trooper struck the tin man across the left side of his face with the butt of his scavenged shotgun's stock with enough speed to create a sonic boom. The Phase Commander cried out in disgust with his warped, electronic voice as he fell back onto his right side.

Standing over the tin man, Omega 1 struck his own chest with his left hand and the side of the shotgun as he roared, "YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME? COME ON MOTHERFUCKER!" The Phase Commander, seeing me approaching, phased through the floor to escape. Before we could follow him, the cyborg closed the portal. Reloading his shotgun, my brother commented, "Coward." Then, looking at me with his cracked mask, he asked, "What took you so long?"

With my body returning to normal, I replied, "It was an ambush. Two Phase Casters were waiting for me."

Pumping his shotgun, Omega 1 said in response, "Should have known that they would be planning something like this." After a pause, he continued, "No matter. The sewer access is on level below us. There is a maintenance elevator on the other side of the cell block ahead of us. Come on, we have to hurry."

As we moved forward towards the pair of double doors that would access to the cell block, I inquired, "How do you know so much about the building's layout?"

He explained, "The building has a twin in Fairport. Guess someone was behind the construction and operation of both of them. Heard some of the mercenaries mentioning a man by the name of Wade but it wasn't Harlan. Maybe it was his father? Would make sense considering how fucked up in the head the members of the Wade Family are. I was stationed at the other one before Armacham overran us."

Intrigued, I asked, "What did they want from the building? Must have been important if they committed so many forces to capturing it."

As we stood before the doors, he looked at me and explained, "Nothing confirmed, but I did hear the ATC Mercenaries talking about F.E.A.R. Maybe they thought that the group was inside the building."

We entered the cell block to find it deserted. There were no signs of any fighting or even human habitation to be seen. The building shook and we began to sprint towards the exit on the far side. However, as we sprinted, I suddenly heard my brother cry out in shock. Due to my pace, I was a good five steps away before I stopped. I turned back to see that the Phase Commander had opened another portal underneath him. However, this time, the ragged blue circle was so small that my brother's large frame couldn't fit through it entirely. As such, only Omega 1's legs had managed to fall through the hole.

I ran back as my brother began to cry in agony. I saw blood beginning to squirt out of the portal and realized that the butcher was slowly cutting him apart. My body felt strangely cold and my heart began to beat painfully in my chest as I rushed to his aid. By the time I had reached him, his legs had clearly been severed from his body and now his torso was sinking through the portal.

I grabbed him underneath his arms and then began to lift my brother out of the portal. It soon became clear that the Phase Commander was not the only one that I was fighting against because even my enhanced strength was not enough to prevent Omega 1 from being dragged down through the opening. It happened so quickly that my brother was alive for the entire ordeal. Blood continued to squirt up through the portal and I was soon covered with it. Slowly, but inevitably, I watched my older brother being cut apart until I had to relocate my hands so that they were gripping him underneath his head, my Vollmer having long since been dropped. Just as the top of his neck reached the surface of the portal, it suddenly closed.

Still pulling up as hard as I could, I was thrown off-balance and fell back onto my rear. I stared in shock at the bloody decapitated head of my only brother that I continued to hold in my hands. It was several seconds before my mind finally accepted what had just happened and that he was dead. My brother had been slowly cut into pieces while he was still alive and I had been unable to save him. I felt numb as I dropped his head, stood, retrieved my Vollmer, and then moved towards the exit.

In another time and place, I would have gone after my brother's murderer and pursued him to the ends of the Earth and beyond to get revenge for my fallen sibling. However, I had a mission to complete and the building was about to be demolished by its own exploding gas line. I had exited the cell block and was sprinting towards the elevator at the end of the long hallway when I was thrown forward onto the floor as the building shook violently. The floor beneath me cracked and soon gave way. I fell through darkness for a moment before I landed hard in what felt like a large pipe. Before I could react, I felt myself sliding though the pipe as if it was a big water slide.

Moments later, I felt my frame enter a body of fluid. My mask's built-in low light optics activated and I found that I had traveled through the sanitarium's waste removal pipe and into the town's main sewer runoff. As I continued to sink through the human waste, I saw that there were runoff feeds spaced uniformly along the large collection pipe that was cylindrical in shape and was more like a large tank because of its size. Not wanting to see what was at the bottom of the collection pipe, I swam over to the side. Just as I reached it, I saw the entrance to a runoff pipe.

Reaching out with my gloved hands, I managed to grab onto two of the rusted metal bars that acted as a filter to keep large objects from entering the collection pipe. Fighting against the powerful downward current, I used my right hand to remove enough of the bars to allow me to enter the pipe while I continued to hold the far left bar with my left hand.

Moments later, I had removed enough of the bars to get through the grate and began to make my way through the runoff shaft. I was forced to slowly inch my way forward as I crawled along the heavily rusted pipe's ruffled surface as the current threatened to send me backwards. My vision began to blacken and my chest began to burn instinctively for air but I forced myself onwards. Just as it seemed that I was going to die in that pipe, I saw a faint light above me and realized that it was a surface access point for maintenance personnel. Sure enough, I saw the bottom steps of the ladder and grabbed onto the sides of the metal object.

My vision nearly consumed by darkness, I began to ascend. As my head breached the surface of the waste-filled water, I let out a chocked gasp from beneath my mask. Though my body wanted rest, I forced myself to continue. Above me, I saw the top of the shaft and the manhole cover that was slightly askew and thus allowed sunlight to be visible. Though I had lost the only blood-related sibling I had and was covered in human waste, I had succeeded in escaping the building before it was destroyed. Now, I had to complete my mission and return home to the only family that I still had left.


End file.
